


A Little Bit of This, and a Little Bit of That

by kangaroo2010



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adult Language, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 59,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5328503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangaroo2010/pseuds/kangaroo2010
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter the time, no matter the place, no matter the circumstances, deep down, they always knew they were meant for each other. A series of short pieces, written for Zutara Month 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secret Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Two centuries after the end of the Hundred Years’ War, Sokka decides to pay a surprise visit to his sister in Republic City. Seems like a brilliant plan, right? Problem is, this is Sokka we’re talking about, which means that something is bound to go sideways.
> 
> And it does.
> 
> So...because these stories are going to wander all over the place, and I haven't written them all yet, the Filter Warnings left me a bit lost. I'll be going back and editing as I go along. THAT SAID...I'll also try and give a heads' up on here. With that in mind...as usual, there will be some adult language, some adult themes, and let's face it, when Toph takes the hit off the bong? NO ONE SHOULD BE SURPRISED.

TO SAY THAT SOKKA WAS A BIT THROWN OFF BY THE GIRL WHO ANSWERED THE DOOR WOULD BE SOMETHING OF AN UNDERSTATEMENT. It didn’t help, he decided later, that, until that moment, everything had gone precisely according to plan. His plane had left Katvik right on time – a rarity in the Southern Water Tribes, where  _time_ was considered a rather loose concept – and the flight itself was smooth as silk, another rarity, seeing as it was the autumn storm season. He had hit the ground in Omashu with time to spare, which meant that, rather than racing through Earth Kingdom Customs and hauling ass from the international to the domestic terminal, he and Yue had been able to saunter their way along, pausing for a beer ( _for him; Yue preferred a glass of wine_ ) and a bite to eat and ogling at the sights through the windows on the concourse. There had been a hairy moment or three in Ba Sing Se, where they’d had to endure an overnight layover in one of the most gods-awful motels he had ever seen ( _which, considering that he was a cop, was saying something_ ), but he and Yue had made it work, and their final flight, this time to Republic City, had gone off without a hitch.

           Everything clicked into place quite nicely after that. Yue had flashed her old diplomatic passport at Customs, and flashed it again at the currency exchange window, which meant that they were given the  _true_ exchange rate, rather than the typical bullshit airport rate. Within ten minutes of hitting the cab rank, they had lucked into a driver who happened to be Water Tribe, and spent the ride to his sister’s apartment in easy-going conversation. Even his sister’s apartment complex was a bit of a win/win, since, while not the nicest place he had ever seen, it was not nearly the  _run-down hellhole_ Gran-Gran was convinced it would be. So, when he and Yue finally reached his sister’s door, he was in  _quite_ the happy mood. His brilliant plan to pay a surprise visit to his sister, while at the same time formally introducing her to his fiancé ( _among other ulterior motives_ ), seemed to have gone off  _perfectly._ Thus it was that, after delivering his signature  _Sokka Knock_ upon the door, he stepped back, threw an arm around Yue’s waist, spread his other arm wide, and took a deep breath, the better to bellow,  _Surprise!_

           Which was why the reality that his sister’s apartment door had just been opened by an  _incredibly_ unamused young woman whom Sokka had neither seen nor heard of was such a startling one.

           For a long, outrageously awkward moment, nothing happened. They all stood there, Sokka with his mouth hanging open, Yue shaking from the effort required to suppress a full-blown case of the giggles, and last but not least the girl, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorjamb, one eyebrow popped up, her mouth twisted into something halfway between a frown and a smirk.

           In the end, it was the strange girl who broke the deadlock. Reaching up one hand to brush a random lock of jet-black hair from her eyes ( _which, Sokka realized, were golden, which, combined with her pale complexion and almond-shaped eyes, marked her down as being of Fire Nation extraction_ ), she asked, in one of the most bored-sounding voices Sokka had ever heard in his life,  _“Geuligo dodaeche dangsin-eun nugu-inga?”_

 _Shit._ Sokka was many things, but a polyglot was not one of them. He spoke Inuktitut, of course, as well as his tribal dialect, and he could make himself understood in Guangzhou and swear in Gorkhali, but as for Hangugeo, the language spoken in the Republic of the Four Nations? He couldn’t even ask where the bathroom was. At a loss, he blinked, first once, then twice, and then a few more times, especially when Yue cleared her throat to get his attention. He turned, still lost and uncomprehending, to find her tapping her chin, her deep blue eyes glittering with laughter.

           It took him a moment, but he got what she meant, slamming his mouth shut and turning back to the Fire Nation  girl in the doorway. “Um…” He winced, grimaced, made vague, awkward hand gestures through the air. “You…um…wouldn’t happen to speak Inuktitut, would you?”

           The girl in the doorway unleashed the most irritating scoff Sokka had ever heard and rolled her eyes. Her answer wasn’t all that encouraging, either, since Sokka didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that it boiled down to,  _The fuck are you on about, asshole?_

At a loss, he turned to his fiancé, spreading his hands and shrugging and putting on his very best  _Sokka Smile,_ but it appeared that Yue was enjoying the spectacle of him at a loss for words too much to intervene. Defeated, he turned back to the girl, wracked his brain some more, and finally managed to stammer out, in Guangzhou he himself admitted was a bit on the  _subpar side,_ “Well…um…just…who…um… _you_ , and…uh…where sister mine?”

           This finally seemed to get a reaction out of the girl that went being open contempt. Rolling her eyes and huffing, she shoved off from the doorjamb and headed into the apartment, leaving the door open as she bellowed for someone called  _Toph._ Sokka, for his part, was content to stand there and stare, since that seemed unlikely to get him any more flustered, but then Yue was sliding out from under his arm, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and picking up her suitcase.

           “Come on, Sokka,” she said, smiling from ear-to-ear as she followed the mysterious girl into the apartment, “I just  _have_ to see where this is going.”

           Grumbling under his breath, Sokka gathered up his own things ( _which, because Yue was a big believer in traditional gender roles having a time and a place, included her massive other suitcase_ ) and followed his fiancé. “You know, sweetheart,” he said, trying to get everything through the door without making even more of a fool of himself, “you could’ve stepped in and thrown me a bone.”

           Yue just giggled, turned, leaned back, and pecked him lightly on the check. “What, and miss out on the chance to see what my future husband looks like when he’s flummoxed? That doesn’t happen very often, you know.”

            _“That’s because you’ve never seen my sister tear a chunk out of me.”_

“What was that?”

           “Nothing, babe.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips and kicked the front door closed with his foot. “Let’s see what other horrors await.”

           Later, when he had time to sit down and try to drink certain images from his mind, he would bitterly regret jinxing himself that way.

*** * * * ***

 

           The apartment, from what Sokka had so far seen, was fairly nice, a bit small and cramped by Water Tribe standards, too, but from what he’d been given to understand, quite spacious for Republic City. It appeared to consist of two bedrooms, a small kitchen, and a living room/common room that opened onto a balcony through a sliding glass door, which was currently open, for reasons that quickly became apparent. Sokka looked around, taking it all in, until finally his gaze settled on the area in front of a cheap and boxy TV. The TV was plugged into a game console, the screen on pause, the controller being taken up by the mystery Fire Nation girl as she settled herself down onto a pile of pillows that formed a sort of cushion on the floor at the foot of the couch. His eyes wandered to the couch itself, and the occupant who was currently sprawled across it, bare feet propped on one arm while their head lolled against the other. This occupant was one who Sokka had expected to meet, since she was Toph, his sister’s roommate. For the most part, she was as he had been lead to believe, from her milky-green eyes to the perpetually bare feet to the folded-up white cane that she compulsively twirled in her fingers.

           What he  _hadn’t_ expected, however, was to walk into the living room right as the girl named Toph took a massive hit from a bong that looked like it weighed more than she did.

           That act, combined with the look of horror spreading across his face, did Yue in. She doubled over, body heaving, tears streaming from her eyes as she burst into laughter so hysterical that, for a moment, Sokka feared for her sanity.

           For a moment, at least, before he stepped up to the couch and snatched the bong from Toph’s hands, an act that earned him an impressive string of obscenities, which he cut off by reaching into his pocket and pulling out his police ID.

            _“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?!”_ he bellowed, lapsing into Inuktitut in his anger. “What are you trying to do, get my sister  _deported?_ Or worse,  _arrested?!_ ”

           By now, Yue had stumbled to a stool in the kitchen and collapsed onto it, gasping for breath as Sokka began looking around for a phone, the better to have this horrid delinquent hauled off by the local authorities.  _And boy, when I get my hands on Katara, is she going to get an earful! I don’t care what she thinks; we’ll be on the plane back home first thing tomorrow morning. This is just-_

“Hey, asshole, either take a hit or give it back.”

           His eyes flew wide as saucers as he rounded on his sister’s roommate, who was holding out her hand and looking  _very_ pissed off.

           “You…” He paused, frowned, drew himself up into what he liked to call his  _Sokka Cop Pose._ “You speak Inuktitut?”

           She scoffed. “I’m good at picking up languages.  Now, like I said, it’s puff-puff-pass not puff-puff-keep, dickhead.”

           He shoved his police ID into her face. “Does this mean nothing to you?”

           That earned him another scoff. “Your sister’s told you I’m blind, right?”

           Yue, who had started to calm down, burst into another round of pealing laugher, slamming a fist on the kitchen counter as she tried not to fall off her stool. Sokka, for his part, flipped the ID closed and shoved it into his back pocket. “Well…um… _just checking._ ”

           “Uh huh. So, you gonna give me my bong back, or what?”

           “Absolutely not; in fact, I’ve half a mind to call the police.”

           That earned him the most derisive scoff yet. “You do know that weed is legal here, right?”

           That threw Sokka for a loop. “Wait…it is?”

           “Yup, now, if you’ll excuse me,” and with that, the girl named Toph, her blindness be damned, deftly leaned up and snatched the bong out of Sokka’s hand before passing it down to the other girl. Settling back into the couch, Toph tilted her head until she was facing his general direction and asked, sounding much more relaxed now, “So, you’re Sokka, right?”

           Sokka nodded. “Yes, I am. And this…um…” He paused, suddenly feeling awkward and ungainly, as he realized that he was gesturing at Yue, a pointless activity in this context if he had ever seen one. “Well…uh…the girl who came with me is-“

           “Yue, right? Your fiancé?”

           Sokka tried not to feel let down.  _Honest._ “Well…um…how would you know that?”

           “Because Katara was the first person I called and told the news,” Yue said, appearing – almost out of thin-air – next to him, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes with one hand while she slid the other around his waist and nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder.

           Sokka frowned. “Wait…you two talk to each other?”

           “At least once a week,” Yue admitted, as if it was the most natural thing in the world and something Sokka should’ve just  _assumed._

Instead, he felt himself getting a bit peevish. “Wait…she only talks to me once a  _month!_ ”

           “Don’t get hung up on details, dear heart, and don’t worry, I didn’t spoil your surprise visit,” Yue replied, patting his stomach, popping up to give him a peck on the cheek, before turning her attention to the girl on the couch and rattling off into Hangugeo, showing off the globe-trotting education she had received as her father spent a distinguished career in the Northern Water Tribe’s diplomatic corps. Feeling a bit superfluous as the conversation continued, he found his mind – along with his eyes – wandering, taking in the various decorations, pictures, knick-knacks, posters, the multiple ashtrays overflowing with…

            _Wait…_  He paused, gave himself a shake, pressed on.  _Later. I’m sure Katara will have a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. So, she didn’t tell me her blind roommate is also a bit of a pothead, oh well. I’m her brother; she doesn’t have to tell me everything, right? And besides, she’s a doctor, for La’s sake, she can’t get into too…much…_

_…_

_Trouble…_

He almost skipped the picture, sitting all nice and innocuous on the coffee table between the couch and the TV. After all, what was one picture among what were, no doubt, dozens? But then something caught his eye, and he took a longer look, and saw that it was, in fact, a picture of his sister, looking just as beautiful as ever, smiling from ear-to-ear, dolled up in formal wear and looking like she was having the time of her life. The goofy grin on her face was so happy, so cheerful, so  _rapturous,_ that he started to smile himself. He just couldn’t help it. Sure, she was far away from home, up here in Republic City, but the girl who could take that picture  _had_ to be having a good time, and maybe he shouldn’t worry so much, after all, everything would be explained in time, she probably got called in at the last minute to the hospital and didn’t call him to tell him because this visit was  _supposed_ to be a surprise, anyways, and after all…

           After all…

            _After…_

_All…_

That’s when he noticed that his sister was not alone in the picture. Oh no, she was not alone at  _all._ He found himself untangling himself from Yue, walking around the couch, reaching down for the picture. The video game on the TV was paused again, and the Fire Nation girl had disappeared, he could almost hear her muffled voice jabbering away in Nihongo to someone, it sounded like a phone conversation, but he quickly tuned that out. He reached down, picked up the picture, held it to his face.

           There was a boy there, a boy who looked remarkably like the girl who had opened his sister’s door. This boy had a long, vicious scar running down his left cheek, as if someone had gone at him with a knife, a look which seemed quite at odds with the beaming smile on his face. The boy was dressed in a uniform, one Sokka vaguely recognized as being the dress uniform of the Republic City police, and then Sokka’s eyes well and truly opened and he gasped as he realized that his sister had her arms wrapped tight around this boy, and this boy had his arms wrapped tight around her.

           Things got a bit… _weird…_ after that.

*** * * * ***

 

 Later, after Yue had worked on him a bit, he would come to see the humor in it all, the  _irony,_ if one will. After all, wasn’t it just so…well… _how did Yue put it, appropriate?_ And when he thought about it, even someone as privately skeptical as he was ( _not that he’d ever admit that, not where his grandmother or his very religious fiancé could hear him do so_ ) had to admit that there was a certain amount of  _symmetry_ to the situation. Just take the names: His sister, Katara, named for their father’s mother, who was, in turn, named, like so many Southern Water Tribe girls, for the famous Fire Lady. And that  _boy_ being named  _Zuko,_ after the very Fire Lord that still-famous ( _even after over two centuries_ ) Fire Lady had ruled and reigned beside? Factor in a blind friend named Toph, and point out that the mysterious Fire Nation girl turned out to be this Zuko’s  _sister,_ and was, for the love of all the gods, named  _Azula_ of all things? And they even had a kindly old uncle named  _Iroh?_

 _What next?_ he couldn’t help but wonder.  _Will they one day – gods forbid – have a granddaughter named Korra, who ends up being the next Avatar?_ Once his mind started wandering down that road, even he had to chuckle to himself about the whole thing.

           None of that would ever expunge from his mind the sight of his sister bursting in through her own front door breathless and flushed, dressed in tattered jeans and wearing a hoodie that was blatantly not her own, leading by a firmly clasped hand the boy named Zuko with what could only be called  _bed head._

           No, nothing, not a gods-damn  _thing,_ could ever cleanse him of  _that_ little memory.


	2. Red String

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A teenaged Avatar gazes out upon a glorious sunset, while she listens to an old woman fondly remember a lifetime of triumph, heartbreak, the shattering of traditions, but, most importantly, love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a radical departure for me, there is not a single instance of adult language in this story. Hell, it could actually be given a solid PG! Cool, huh?

**Red String**

THE VIEW, KORRA HAD TO ADMIT, WAS INCREDIBLE. She stood on the verandah that extended out from the back of the Fire Nation Royal Family’s vacation home on Ember Island, and couldn’t help but sigh in wonder and awe. She felt like she was standing on the edge of the world, staring off into the great unknown, the mists of time and fate and adventure swirling just out of reach, waiting only for her to take that final step and leap into her future. Just to her left, sinking down below the horizon, the sun was setting, a brilliant, shimmering half-disc of fire, bathing the world a thousand-thousand shades of red and gold and pink and purple. The sea sparkled, an endless bed of diamonds winking on and off, on and off, as if the ocean itself was trying to send her a message, a special message, for her eyes only, if only she would tear her gaze away from that temptress the sun and pay just a little more attention to the first element she had ever known, the element that would forever be nearest and dearest to her heart. A cool autumn breeze caressed her face, sending stray bits of hair tickling across her brow, and her nose was thick with the smell of salt and sea and a thousand-thousand things she had not the desire to identify. It was all marvelous, glorious, one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen, suspected that she ever _would_ see, so amazing and awe-inspiring that, for a moment, she completely and utterly forgot why she was standing on that verandah in the first place. It all fell from her mind, everything, all of her cares and her worries, the ever-present bite of homesickness, the training and the duties and the full breadth and scope of a world full of complexities that her fifteen-year-old mind was only just beginning to understand. It vanished, every bit of it, until she was only Korra, the teenaged Avatar, gazing at a beautiful sunset.

            “It really is marvelous, isn’t it?”

            The voice, old and weathered and worn, but still, for all that, warm and kind and motherly, snapped Korra out of her reverie with a jump and a half-stifled yelp. She tore her eyes from the view, whirling around so fast that her long ponytail came swinging all the way around her head to smack her square in the face, leaving her sputtering as she struggled to clear away a mouthful of her own hair. So flustered and flummoxed was she, that it was a good minute or two before she noticed that the same voice that had intruded so rudely upon her daydreams was now quietly – but kindly – laughing at her.

            _Not that I can blame her,_ Korra thought to herself as she fell to her knees and pressed her forehead to the cool wooden floor of the verandah. _I must look utterly ridiculous. Thank the **Gods** Mother wasn’t here to see this, or, gods forbid, **Father.**_ All at once, the sunset and the glorious view were gone, replaced by her father’s glowering visage, and all she could hear, for a moment longer than she cared to admit, even to herself, was the silence of secrets that followed him everywhere he went.

            She gave herself a shake and pushed that all aside. She stretched out her arms, palms flat against the worn wood, just as her mother and the endless white-haired tutors with their strange blue-and-white outfits had taught her, and said, in her pitch-perfect Nihongo, “Apologies, Your Majesty. I completely forgot that you were there.”

            “Well,” the voice of the Fire Lady said, and Korra could all but _hear_ a hand moving back and forth through the air, casting her apologies aside, “with a sunset like this one, who could blame you?”

            Korra frowned, and finally deigned to peek up towards where the Fire Lady sat. “Pardon, Your Majesty?”

            The old woman rolled her eyes and chuckled, sounding, for a moment, far younger than her years. “I should be the one begging _pardon,_ young lady, for startling you so. Had I known the effect I would have, I wouldn’t have said a word.”

            Korra felt a sudden jolt of fear, though why, she didn’t know, couldn’t quite explain. “I…my apologies, Your Majesty, I didn’t mean-“

            The old woman’s voice cut her short, cracking like a whip, and for a moment, Korra could see, clear as day, the tall and proud woman from the bottom of the world who had worn a crown and pulled a nation out of darkness. “That’s quite enough of _that,_ young lady. I’m not the Fire Lady anymore, just a silly old woman who wanted to meet the Avatar my grandchildren have been telling me so much about.” There was a pause, and a rustle of blankets, and then the smile was back in the old woman’s voice and Korra started to feel a bit silly. “Now, if it’s alright with you, I think you should get up off that cold wood and come over here, have a seat, and enjoy this beautiful sunset with me.”

            Korra pushed herself off the ground, until she was resting back on her heels. “I…um…well…if you insist, Your Majesty…”

            The old woman scoffed as she leaned over and patted the seat of the chair beside her. “I _do_ insist, my dear, just as I insist that you stow the _Your Majesties._ ”

            Korra got to her feet, wincing at the chill that had crept into her knees. “Well…um…what should I call you then…um…uh…”

            She looked up then, well and truly looked up, and finally looked the old woman in the eyes, eyes that, for all that they were settled in a bed of wrinkles and peered out from a face wreathed in wispy white hair, still blazed forth with the intensity of a thousand suns, deep and bright and blue as the Ocean Itself.

            “Why, Katara, of course,” the old woman said, smiling from ear-to-ear. “Before I fell in love and wore a crown, I was simply Katara, and that is who I am once more. Now,” another pat delivered to the arm of the aforementioned chair, “are you just going to stand there and stare at me, or are you going to sit down and enjoy the view?”

            Korra tried not to smile; her mother had told her that there were times to smile and times not to, and Korra was pretty sure that _meeting the Dowager Fire Lady_ was _definitely_ the latter. But…well…

            _I just can’t help it, I suppose._

            Just as she couldn’t help skipping a little bit as she went to take her seat, and had to suppress a soft giggle when a servant materialized – almost out of thin air – to give her a blanket and offer her something to drink.

*** * * * ***

            Once, when she was eleven, Korra had seen a portrait of Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Katara. She had been in Ba Sing Se, strolling through the old Fire Quarter, the part of the city that for centuries had been the home of those who traced their lineage back to the Land of the Setting Sun. She had, of course, not been alone, but somehow, she had managed to duck into a random shop, why, she hadn’t known then, didn’t know now. The shop had been run by a wizened old crone with teeth died blood-red from chewing betel nuts, an old hag who had perched atop of a rickety stool and barked orders at the young men and women who worked for her, all of whom seemed to be blood relations of one sort or another.

            The portrait had immediately caught Korra’s eye, to the point that she never could remember what, exactly, the shop had sold, or anything else at all, really. All she remembered was the portrait, hanging in a place of honor in the middle of the back wall, taking precedence over everything else the shop had to offer. Korra had stood and gazed at it for a long time, or, at least, it had _felt_ like a long time, and when her chaperones had finally caught up with her, they had had to drag her away, so captivated was she by it.

            She could remember every detail. It had been large, mounted in an old – but carefully maintained – frame. It showed two people, one a young man, with a serious expression made all the more grim by the scar that covered much of the left side of his face, fanning out from an eye white and dead. He wore formal robes, his hair done up in a plain and simple topknot that held up a golden crown in the shape of flames, his face clean-shaven, every inch of him pouring forth earnestness and intensity.

            The other person was a young woman, with skin as dark as Korra’s own and eyes that were deep and blue. Her hair was long, dark brown, and wavy, spilling back from her brow and cascading down her back like a waterfall. A tuft of her hair was pulled up into a kind of topknot, and in that tuft was another crown, smaller than the man’s, but no less majestic for that. She held up her left hand, which was pressed to the right hand of the man, and from the ring finger of that left hand winked a simple bright blue sapphire set in a simple band of gold. At her neck rested a purple stone hanging from a purple choker, and though her eyes were soft and her face was kind, her jaw was set, and those soft blue eyes blazed with fire and determination.

            Korra had seen pictures of Their Majesties after that ( _after all, seeing as the Fire Lady had been born of Korra’s own tribe, the Yuupik, such portraits were unavoidable, as ubiquitous as the number of girls named **Katara**_ ), and had probably seen other pictures before, but that was the one that stuck with her, that struck a chord deep within her soul. She would never forget that glimpse back through the mists of time, to before even her own parents were born, never be able to shake the profound sense of wonder that had come upon her as she gazed at two faces, one a boy who had been hated and burned and rejected by his own father, one a girl who had broken free of the expectations and restrictions of her time and people and upbringing, two souls that had come together, bound forever by the cord of red silk that was tightly wound around their hands in that first official portrait, to be seen by another young girl from the bottom of the world, seen and never forgotten.

*** * * * ***

            “Do you know what this is?”

            It took a moment for Korra to respond. She had gotten lost in the sunset again, sipping the tea that had been brought to her, feeling snug and safe and warm beneath the blanket that had been draped over her shoulders. “What is what, Your…um…” She chuckled at herself, snuggled deeper into her blanket, smiled at the horizon. “Sorry, I mean… _Katara._ ”

            She turned to face Katara, watched as the old woman held up a length of silk cord, red as the setting sun in the distance. The cord was entwined around Katara’s hand, and it shimmered in the fading light.

            “Why,” Katara said, switching into the tribal dialect that they shared, “this, of course.”

            Korra frowned, distant memory pricking at the back of her mind. She had seen that cord before, in that portrait that had struck her so deeply. She smiled, and bowed her head. “It’s the cord they wrap around the hands of the bride and groom at a Fire Nation wedding ceremony, isn’t it?”

            Katara smiled, soft and sweet, as if she was reveling in a thousand-thousand- _thousand_ memories that Korra could only guess at. “It is, the very same cord the Lord Fire Sage himself wrapped around my and Zuko’s hands. Did you know that this caused something of a stir at the time?”

            Korra shook her head, her brow furrowing in thought. “I didn’t, actually. What was the problem?”

            Katara sighed, settling deeper into her blankets, rubbing her thumb up and down the cord. “Well, you see, in the Fire Nation, at least at the time, marriages among the nobility and, by extension, royalty, were all arranged.”

            Korra nodded, still not sure she saw what the color of the cord had to do with anything. “Like the Northern Water Tribe?”

            For a moment, Katara looked very sad, but then she gave herself a shake and the smile was back, though the pain lingered deep in the corners of her eyes. “Yes, like the Northern Water Tribe, though at least there, boys had a choice in the matter. In the Fire Nation, neither the boys _nor_ the girls had any say; my husband always told me that more than one young man was dragged kicking and screaming to the temple. Point is, though, all marriages were arranged, and to signify that, and because virginity was considered important in such matters…” She paused, chuckled, shook her head. “At least, _symbolically,_ or so the old jokes tell us, but anyways, as I was saying, when nobility were married, their hands were bound with white cords. Commoners, on the other hand, who could marry for love, had their hands bound with red string, or silk if they could afford it.”

            Korra gave a slow nod, realization dawning. “I see…so…when you and your husband had your hands bound with a red cord, you were basically shattering thousands of years of tradition.”

            Katara smiled at the setting sun. “Yes, that’s pretty much the long and short of it. A foreign-born Fire Lady? I was far from the first; a good quarter of all the past Fire Ladies were born Earth Kingdom princesses. And the fact that it wasn’t exactly a secret that my husband and I were lovers long before he set a crown in my hair?” A shrug, a wave of the hand. “Again, not the first time that happened, and besides, my war hero status meant I was given a lot of leeway. But the fact that, in one stroke, my husband – the Fire Lord, mind you – shattered an ancient tradition of arranged marriages, didn’t even _pretend_ that the _proper forms_ had been given at least _lip service_? Well…” A final sigh, as Katara pressed her cord-wrapped hand to her chest and sighed, a gentle smile on her lips. “That was a bit _much_ for some of my new people.”

            Korra giggled. “They seem to have gotten over it, considering that your own son, the current Fire Lord, married a commoner.”

            Katara nodded. “Yes, they do seem to have gotten over it…even the nobility marry for love these days. Amazing, the changes we have wrought…” She paused, tilted her head, turned her gaze to Korra. “Though not as amazing, I think, as the changes _you_ will bring to the world, Korra.”

            Korra sighed, sipped her tea, and turned back to the sunset. She didn’t say anything, because she didn’t think anything needed to be said.

            Because, in that moment, for the first time in her life, she well and truly believed that, somehow, someway, she was going to be the best Avatar that ever was.

            After all, if one girl from the bottom of the world could become a queen, who could say what another one could do?

            _No one,_ she decided, _no one at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As is standard, if you are so inclined, you can find a longer AN over at FF.net, where you can find this story posted on my SN, kangaroo2010. You can also scope this out on Tumblr, under the same SN, because I will achieve market saturation if it kills me.
> 
> This story can be read two ones: Either as a stand-alone one-shot, OR as a "many years later" sequel to "A Different Path," which was not only my very first published bit of fanfic, but can also be found on the aforementioned FF profile. I encourage you to read it, though, to be warned: I was still getting used to this whole business, and I didn't proofread it, like...AT ALL. So, you know, be kind...?
> 
> Before anyone asks, by the way: Where's Zuko? Well, why do you think Katara's not the Fire Lady anymore? *sigh* I just always have to bring shit down, don't I?


	3. Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should've packed it in, should've gone home. The assignment was a waste of time, Zuko saw that instantly. But then again, if he'd done that, he never would've heard the name Katara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Premise shamelessly stolen from John le Carre's "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy," and in a return to form, there be adult language and adult themes throughout.

**Drunk**

THERE WERE TIMES, RARE, BUT NOT AS UNCOMMON AS HE WOULD LIKE, WHEN THE FUTILITY OF IT ALL DEPRESSED ZUKO. Times when something would shift, somewhere deep in his soul, and he would be assaulted by the undeniable knowledge of the pointlessness of his existence. It would all stretch out before him, back into the mists of time and forward into the dark depths of the future, the eternal cycle, over and over again. The Four Nations that were not really Four, and often were barely even Nations, constantly jostling for power, for advantage, for position. Alliances constantly shifting, this way and that, first one way, and then another, and then yet once more, or maybe back to the first, it was always a surprise, especially when it wasn’t. The long periods of _peace,_ of _cold war,_ of the Nations glaring at each other across the seas, preparing, marshalling their strength, chipping away at each other, until the inevitable day came when the Avatar would die and all hell would break loose, and war would come, a generation of war, different every time, yet always the same. The Nations of the world would tear at each other, all the hidden enmities brought out of the darkness and into the light, vengeance for the last time finally at hand, and then a generation would pass, maybe fifteen years, maybe twenty, maybe twenty-five, and the new Avatar would appear like an avenging angel, and the _status quo_ would be imposed once more, no matter the cost. Then, the armies would go back to their barracks and, for as long as this new Avatar lived, the world would belong to the spies once again.

            They never lasted long, these moments of despair, or, at least, they didn’t for Zuko. He knew he wasn’t alone, knew the stories of agents of all sides broken by the mistake of gazing too long into the abyss, but he was different from those who broke, wasn’t he? He didn’t want to be, but he was. He had grown up in the abyss, he and his sister both, and he had long ago learned the skill of shaking off its ice-cold fingers. Sometimes, he had to take action to pull himself out, order a drink, crack open a beer, open a window and stick his head out into the open air. Sometimes, it was a simple matter of addressing the most common cause for these moments, that being the fact that he had accidentally run out of cigarettes.

            And then, sometimes, the world itself would provide the push to get him out of the night and into the dim mist of twilight. This was one of those times, as the wheels of the plane struck the runway and jolted him out of his thoughts. He blinked, looked around, listened as the engines roared and winced as gravity took control of him once more and jostled him about like lead balls rattling around in an empty pail. He took off his glasses, ran his hands down his face, both sides, the living and the dead, took comfort from the lack of sensation as his left palm ran itself over his scar, and then it was all over, the flight attendants were marching up and down the aisle, the air was filled with chimes, and everyone was standing, even him.

            With that, he gave himself a final shake, snatched his backpack off the floor, hauled his duffel bag down from the overhead bin, slung it over his shoulder, and joined the long shuffling line for the door.

*** * * * ***

            “Sir, do you have anything to declare?”

            Zuko frowned, not comprehending at first. It was a heavy travel day, and the lines at Customs had been long and full of bored businessmen and squealing children and exhausted travelers snarling at each other. He had joined the line for non-citizens, shuffling forward step-by-step, chomping on one piece of gum after another because, unlike the Fire Nation, in the United Republic of the Four Nations, the authorities discouraged smoking in public spaces. He took the chance to orient himself to his most recent destination, taking in the sights and sounds, humming tunelessly, shifting his mental gears from Nihongo to Hangugeo. So lost was he in his own head that, when it was his turn to step up to the Customs officer, present his passport, and hand over his bags for inspection, he wasn’t even aware he was doing so.

            Still frowning, he dragged himself back into the waking world, taking a moment to adjust his glasses and do his best to look as innocuous as possible, a vital skill when his profession was what it was and half his face looked like someone had slammed it into a stove burner turned on high.

            _Which isn’t all that far from the truth, when I think about it._

“Pardon?” he asked, voice blank and empty, just one more half-dead international passenger.

            The Customs officer, a pot-bellied man with washed-out eyes and a beet-red face, gestured at his bags. “Do you have anything to declare, sir?”

            Zuko bit down on a laugh. It seemed like a silly question; as usual, he was traveling light, just a battered backpack filled with odds-and-ends and a duffel bag stuffed with a few days’ worth of clothes. To search it would have taken all of five minutes, and even then, only if the searcher was drunk.

            Keeping his face blank, he shook his head. “No, sir,” he said, in the version of Hangugeo he reserved for officialdom, slurred and thickly accented, like he’d picked it up on the fly and never bothered to refine it. “Unless you count two-and-a-half cartons of cigarettes.”

            The officer chuckled, his shoulders heaving in time with the faint wheezes that rattled in his rotund chest as he turned his gaze to Zuko’s passport. “Not a fan of the local brands?”

            Zuko shrugged, running a hand through his thick mop of unkempt hair. “Meh, they’re fine by me. I just don’t like to run out.” Which was actually true; like any good spy, Zuko tried to get as far on the unvarnished truth as humanly possible.

            The officer nodded. “Fair enough. So, Mister…” A squint of the eyes, a tilt of the head back from the passport, “ _Mishima_ , what brings you to Republic City today?”

            Zuko ( _or, according to his passport, **Mishima Hajime**_ ) moved his hand from his hair to the back of his neck, set to absently rubbing. “Lucked into some vacation days, decided to go somewhere different for once. Thought I might catch a pro-bending match or two.”

            The officer sucked on his bottom a lip, a movement that left him looking quite ridiculous. “They don’t have pro-bending in the Fire Nation?”

            “Not like they do here, or, at least, that’s what a friend of mine says.”

            The officer set the passport on the table, gesturing at Zuko’s unopened bags, which Zuko lazily took back. “Well,” the officer said, sticking the tip of his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he flipped through the passport and applied the entry stamp, “I think you’ll find that your friend was telling you true.” He snapped the passport closed, looked up at Zuko. “Just to check, you are aware that, if you plan on staying more than a week, you’ll need to report to your embassy and fill out some forms. More than a month, and you’ll need a visa.”

            Zuko did his best to look surprised as he got his bags settled on the proper shoulders, backpack hanging from one strap on the right, duffel bag slung from the left. “Really? Well, I’ve got a flight back out in five days, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

            The officer smiled. “Then you have nothing to worry about, sir.” He handed the passport back. “Welcome to the United Republic of the Four Nations, Mr. Mishima.”

            Zuko tapped the passport to his brow. “Happy to be here.”

            And with that, he was gone.

*** * * * ***

            No one came to pick him up, but then again, he didn’t expect that. After all, why should they? According to his passport, he was just a low-level office drone, taking a half-assed vacation towards the end of the year before he lost that year’s personal days, and when have passports ever lied? The one Zuko was carrying certainly couldn’t be a lie; in fact, it was completely genuine, issued by the Royal Ministry of State, complete with His Majesty the Fire Lord’s seal on the front. And, sure, Zuko, as could only be expected, had four other completely genuine passports in a safe in the tiny apartment he shared with his sister back home, but who needed to know that?

            _No one,_ he decided, as he flagged down a cab and got inside. _Not even me, for a little while, at least._

*** * * * ***

            He asked the cab driver to take him to a cheap motel, preferably near a liquor store, and the driver delivered, earning the nice tip Zuko gave him. The motel was, indeed, everything Zuko could’ve asked for, quiet, run-down, the kind where they didn’t ask questions and, so long as you paid in cash, upfront, didn’t bother to ask foreigners for their passports. It was even across the street from a dingy little liquor store, which, after he dropped his bags in his room and checked in with his local contact from the Service’s Republic City Station, he immediately patronized. There, to his delight, they sold Fire Nation beer, and he immediately bought a six-pack of cans and a newspaper before heading back to his room.

            He timed his return to his room perfectly, settling down in a rickety chair by the window he had just opened, freshly lit cigarette dangling from his lips as he cracked open one of the beers, right as the room’s phone warbled in his ear. He took his time, taking a few sips, a few puffs, breathing deep the musky early winter air, before finally, after the third ring, tipping his chair back, stretching his arm, and snatching the receiver off the cradle.

            “Yeah?” he drawled in Nihongo, positioning his chair so that he could prop his feet up on the windowsill.

            “Hello, this is the Fire Nation Embassy. Is Murakami-san there?”

            Zuko shook his head, his good eye following a sparrowkeet as it darted across his field of vision. “Can’t say that he is.”

            There was the sound of shuffling papers, and a heavy sigh, the caller sounding for all the world like some put-upon Embassy flunky. “Oh…this wouldn’t happen to be…Room 406 at the Prancing Ostrich-Horse Inn, would it?”

            Zuko shrugged, sipping his beer before bothering to answer. “Got the place right, but the room wrong. This is Room 506; I imagine 406 is downstairs.”

            Another heavy sigh, and a muffled curse. “Oh, for the love of…listen, if it’s not too much trouble, can you pop down there and tell Murakami-san to come to the Embassy at ten o’clock tomorrow morning?”

            Zuko let out an incredulous laugh, even as he translated the code in his head. _Report to the location you have already been briefed on by ten o’clock tonight. Instructions as previously stated. Mission status green._ “You’re fucking with me, right? The hell would I do that for?”

            Zuko could almost see the resigned shake of the head, the slump of the shoulders. _Whoever this guy is, he’s good; the Service should give him a promotion, have him teach voice-acting classes at the Farm._ “Out of the goodness of your heart, perhaps?”

            _He **is** good; doesn’t even sound like he believes what he’s saying. _“Kiss my ass,” Zuko said with a laugh, and without any further preamble, dropped the receiver back into its cradle and turned his gaze back towards the exquisite view of dingy shops, grungy apartment complexes, and trash-strewn alleyways, all complimented by a dark grey, heavily overcast sky and the glitter of Republic City’s vibrant downtown sparkling in the distance.

            About an hour later, as he cracked open beer three, he pondered getting something to eat, but ultimately decided that he couldn’t be bothered. After all, it was only four, and he still had at least five hours to kill before he headed out; maybe he’d get something on the way.

*** * * * ***

            Back home, Zuko’s sister, who was in the same line of work as he was ( _only on a career track that actually went somewhere, seeing as she was an actual agent and he was just a lowly scalphunter, because of **course** she was_), was always telling to him to lighten up and have some fun from time-to-time, _it’s not against the law to enjoy yourself, you know, Zu-Zu._ Deciding that she had a point, he set out for his rendezvous with a spring in his step, planning it all out in his head. His hands shoved deep in his pockets, he resumed the same aimless tune he had hummed in the Customs line, whistling to himself as he strode through the crisp winter air towards the nearest subway station. There, he made a big show of not being able to understand the machine that dispensed tokens, finally having to ask a random attendant for help, before making another production out of trying to decipher the nearest system map.

            Even then, he appeared to get lost several times, growing increasingly frustrated, before finally giving in and buying a Nihongo-language map from a kiosk. He took the map to a nearby noodle shop, eating a humble meal which he washed down with another beer while peering at the map like it was written in some ancient alien script. After that, he appeared to get lost again, before breaking down and asking a bored-looking attendant for directions downtown, a task he accomplished with mangled grammar, exasperated hand gestures, and lots of shouting, even though his Hangugeo was, in reality, just about perfect.

            In the end, he did reach his destination, where he seemed to throw up his hands in disgust, abandon any previous plans, and duck into the nearest bar, a red-lit burlesque lounge where a burly doorman patted him down before admitting him to a dark, smoke-filled world of plush, burgundy-leather seats, secluded booths, and scantily-clad girls ferrying drinks and pretending to flirt with off-duty sailors and wide-eyed businessmen. Somewhere off to his left as he entered, there was a deep, thumping bass sound, emanating from the back rooms where low-paying customers could get lap-dances and high-paying customers could get whatever they wanted.

            All of that he ignored, though, or seemed to ignore. Looking for all the world like a pissed-off tourist, he stomped his way right up to the bar, a place that was normally the realm of bouncers, managers, and lonely young men trying to buck up their courage to ask for one of the aforementioned lap-dances. Choosing a seat seemingly at random, Zuko plopped himself down, sighed heavily, and, when the bartender – yet another scantily clad young woman – asked him for his order, he groaned, lit a cigarette, and asked for a shot and a beer to chase it down with.

            The girl behind the bar popped an eyebrow at him, looking decidedly amused. “Bad night?”

            Zuko gave a half-hearted shrug, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “You could say that.” He paused, frowned. “You don’t happen to speak Nihongo, do you?”

            The girl gave him a smile that seemed _almost_ somewhat genuine. “As a matter of fact,” she said in that language, “I do! My mother was Fire Nation, oddly enough.”

            Zuko chuckled. “Small world, eh? But yeah,” he continued, as she set down the required shot and beer, quickly downing the shot, “I just got in today, had this big plan to go downtown and see the sights, and spent two hours aimlessly wandering your fucktarded subway system.”

            The girl giggled, which he didn’t put too much stock in. “Yeah, it can be a bit confusing to outsiders. Another shot?”

            Zuko took a big gulp of his beer and smiled. “Don’t mind if I do. Oh, and there’s a big tip in store for you if you keep your girlfriends away from me; I’m not interested in a dance.”

            The girl gave him a knowing nod as she poured the second shot. “I was thinking that this doesn’t seem your kind of place.” She seemed like she was going to say something else, but before she could, another customer wolf-whistled at her. With a roll of her eyes, she turned and headed down the bar, expression nothing but a perky smile.

            Zuko was sipping his beer, lighting another cigarette as he contemplated how to dispose of the shot in a way that made it look like he’d drunk it, when he felt a nudge to his right elbow. Intrigued, he turned to discover an incredibly bored-looking young man about his age, of obvious Fire Nation extraction. Every inch of the guy screamed _miserable office drone who hates his job,_ from the rumpled jacket slung over the back of his chair to the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt to the loosened dark-blue tie hanging from his neck.

            Doing his best to sound irritated, Zuko barked, in Nihongo, as if to discourage conversation, “The fuck do you want?”

            The guy threw up a hand, an awkward smile on his face. “Hold up there, buddy,” he said, also in Nihongo, “I just noticed that you were from my part of the world, figured I’d say hello.”

            Zuko gave the guy a long look, then relaxed, shrugging and returning his attention to his beer. “Fair enough.” There was a long pause, as if he was considering his options, before he let out a tired-sounding sigh and turned back to the guy, bowing his head. “Mishima Hajime.”

            The guy smiled and bowed his head in return. “Tsurukawa.”

            Zuko laughed. “Just Tsurukawa?”

            Tsurukawa rolled his eyes. “Yeah; my first name is dumb as fuck, so I avoid using it wherever possible.”

            “I can see why…though it can’t be as bad as fucking _Hajime._ ”

            “You would be surprised, you really would. The cruelty of parents knows no bounds.”

            Zuko shook his head. “Tell me about it. So…come here often?”

            “I do, actually. This is the quietest bar-top in the entire city. The only people who sit here are bouncers, bodyguards, and guys who don’t want to open a tab before they go in the back. I can just sit here, drink, and not be bothered by anyone.”

            Zuko nodded, as if this was some new, wondrous piece of information. “I can see that.” He took another look at Tsurukawa, and frowned. “Doesn’t seem like you’re enjoying yourself tonight, though.”

            Tsurukawa rolled his eyes, emptied his beer, and motioned for another. “Damn straight I’m not. Forgot that there was some big joint Earth Kingdom-Southern Water Tribe trade delegation in town.” He jerked a thumb towards a back corner. “Assholes have been in here every gods-damn night this gods-damn _week,_ having the time of their lives.”

            Zuko turned in his seat, and sure enough, in the indicated corner, there was a large party of men of all ages, some Earth Kingdom, some Water Tribe, every single one of them outrageously drunk, and, what was worse, acting the part, too.

            Zuko clucked his tongue and turned back to his new _friend._ “Gods, and I thought the hordes of Air Nomad exchange students who descend on downtown Miyako every weekend were bad.”

            “ _Exactly,_ though Jet’s the worst.”

            “Who?”

            “Jet, the young one, guy about our age, thirty-or-so, real piece of work, don’t know why they let him keep coming in. All he does is drink himself blind and fondle the girls.”

            “Probably brings plenty of cash. How do you know his name?”

            “Give it an hour or two, and you’ll know more about him than you ever cared to.”

            Zuko turned back towards the drunken trade delegation, and in an instant picked the guy called _Jet_ out. He was pretty obvious: Tall, handsome, and flopping around all over the place. Zuko had never seen such a sloppy drunk.

            _Well,_ he thought, upon further review, _not such a **fake** sloppy drunk, at least._

*** * * * ***

            Tsurukawa left about a half-hour later, in apparent disgust, and Zuko left only an hour after him. He was _supposed_ to stay the rest of the evening, as long as Jet was there, but within ten minutes of catching sight of the guy, Zuko knew he had just wasted a night of his life that he would never get back.

            As he reviewed the facts, strolling down the street back towards the subway station, trailing misted breath and cigarette smoke, he was able to see how the mistake had been made. Smoking bans in airport terminals notwithstanding, Republic City was well-known as one of the most loosely regulated cities on the planet. Whenever a trade delegation or a business convention or something like that blew into town, there were always a couple of young individuals, generally on their first trip, who let it all go to their heads, _especially_ when the individual was Earth Kingdom. After all, in the current cycle of the world, it was the Earth Kingdom’s turn to fill the role of _repressive dictatorship,_ and _fun_ was only marginally legal there. So, when a trade delegation came in, and some young whippersnapper started to get crazy, it was a good time to recruit an agent.

            Zuko could see it all know, as he loitered on the subway platform, waiting for the train that would take him back to his motel and the pair of powerful binoculars he had stashed in his duffel bag. It was a pretty simple exercise; he would observe this _Jet_ for a few days, slide up to the guy at some point, become his buddy, get him drunk, get him talking. If he was already amenable to sharing inside information from his side of the cold war, _great._ If not, money generally did the trick, and if _that_ didn’t work, Zuko would get the guy caught in a difficult-to-explain situation and use good ole’ fashioned blackmail.

            _And the second I do that,_ Zuko thought with a savage smile, _he’ll reveal himself as the spy he obviously is, and I’ll be fucked. **Play ball, or watch your life go down the toilet as we use you to cause an international incident.** Yeah, that’s how I’d play it, if I was this Jet guy…_

Zuko frowned. _Or, at least, if I was this Jet guy and a bit smarter. Who does this asshole think he’s fooling, flopping around like his bones turned to jelly?_

Zuko let out another scoff as he boarded his train. _Dickhead._

*** * * * ***

            Later, when he had the benefit of hindsight, he would decide that he should’ve just packed it in. He knew what he had seen, and he was considered at _least_ good enough to spot a trap when he saw one. Take his sister’s advice, drag out the assignment, use up the full five days he had been allotted, have some fun, then wire _No Sale_ back home, pack up, catch the next flight west. There was no need to do due diligence, there was no need to exert himself, no need to do…well… _anything at all,_ really. He had done his job, spotted the trap, and ignored said trap, giving it the contempt it deserved.

            But, in the end, he couldn’t fight the boredom. Because, well… _he was bored._ He had never been very good at _having fun,_ and if he fucked off back to his room, he’d just spend the night staring out the window, sucking down beer. So, _whatever, kiss my ass Azula,_ he would go fetch his binoculars, head across town to where the delegation was staying, set up shop in the building that was oh-so-conveniently possessed a floor of empty offices across the street from the hotel, grab a thermos-full of harsh black tea on his way, and do something productive with his time. _I mean, who knows? I might even manage to gather some actual intelligence, which shouldn’t be too hard, considering what that this asshole is apparently experiencing his first day on the job or some such bullshit. Yeesh._

_Must be someone’s cousin._

            So, his reasoning was sound, but he would always wish it wasn’t. Because, see, if he had just fucked off to bed and ignored that whiny little voice of _honor_ and _duty,_ then he never would’ve met the girl with the deep blue eyes and the dark brown hair like a waterfall down her back. He never would’ve seen her, never would’ve sensed that there was something important about her.

            He never would’ve met her, talked to her, listened to her plea, passed it on.

            Never would’ve held her, loved her, risked everything for her.

            Never would’ve known the name _Katara._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, you can find a comprehensive AN, complete with rambling asides, a shout-out to my wife, and a full explanation of what's going on over on FF.net, under the screenname kangaroo2010. You are also more than free to hit me up on Tumblr (kangaroo2010) or Twitter (@historybuff2013) if you have any questions. The conclusion to this little story will be posted on December 8th, for the prompt "Lullaby."
> 
> Also, if you happen to be familiar with "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy," and thus have a pretty good idea of where this is all going, please, please, PLEASE don't spoil it for anybody. If you do, I'll sic my wife on you; she's feral when it comes to spoilers.
> 
> Tune in tomorrow for a dip into the regular ATLA universe, where we engage in a bit of whimsy and have a bit fun, all because Katara took Toph at her word when the girl said she knew where she was going. See you then!


	4. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara doesn't know why she even bothers to try to argue with Toph anymore. Some things just never change, she supposes.
> 
> As usual when Toph appears in my story, there be heaps of adult language, allusions to adult themes, and for the overly sensitive individuals out there, unapologetic lesbianism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual when Toph appears in my story, there be heaps of adult language, allusions to adult themes, and for the overly sensitive individuals out there, unapologetic lesbianism.
> 
> Also, be advised, this is just pure, unadulterated, PWP whimsy.

**Lost**

“HEY, SUGAR QUEEN, I THINK WE’RE LOST.”

            “No shit, Toph.”

            “Woo! Such language! Do you kiss Prince Sparky with that mouth?”

            “I…oh. My. _Gods._ When will you and Sokka just _drop that?!_ ”

            “When it stops being true?”

            “I… _I never kissed Zuko, dammit._ ”

            “Right, because your heart was racing when we had the little episode with Princess Bitch a while back because…why, exactly?”

            “Oh, I don’t know…maybe because we’d just been in a _fight for our very lives?!”_

“Meh, it wasn’t that big a deal. If that’s the best plan Princess Bitch can come up with, I think we’ll be home free. But, back to the whole sexual tension between you and-“

            “For the love of all that is holy will you _shut up about that?!”_

“Like I said, when it stops being true.”

            “That…oh…for the love of…you are _impossible,_ Toph.”

            “I know, it’s part of my charm.”

            “…sure, we’ll go with that.”

            “Exactly.”

            “I… _GRRRRR._ Alright, back to the matter at hand…”

            “What, about how you got us lost?”

            “I…no, I’m not the one who got us lost, _you are._ ”

            “Um, remember, blind chick here. When one is in a two-person group, and only one of them has the ability to _see,_ then I think it’s the fault of the sighted person if said group gets lost.”

            “Wow…I think that’s the longest sentence I’ve ever heard you put together without using a cuss word.”

            “What can I say? Sometimes I like to throw a motherfucker off.”

            “Whatever. Look, _you_ are the one who got us lost, because _you_ are the one who reassured Sokka that we _wouldn’t_ get lost because _you_ knew your way around.”

            “And you believed me?”

            “…why wouldn’t I, Toph?”

            “Look, Sugar Queen, I know that you like to believe in the best in people and all that wimpy-ass bullshit, but come on, I’m the girl who spent the past few years putting a truly _outrageous_ amount of time and effort into convincing my mom that I’m not into girls. So, you know, take what I say with a grain of fucking salt.”

            “…okay, _point._ But, if you didn’t know your way around, why did you tell Sokka that you did?”

            “Because he’s an over-protective idiot who would’ve raised a big gods-damn stink if he’d known there was a chance of us getting lost down here in the Lower Ring?”

            “And what, you thought I couldn’t handle him?”

            “Well, _duh,_ you can handle him, but I wanted to skip that step, you know? Speed shit up a bit.”

            “Okay, again, _point,_ but I think _my_ point still stands. _You_ led me to believe that you knew your way around, which is why _I_ didn’t feel the need to ask for a guide when Kuei’s guards asked us if we needed one. Didn’t you think to maybe clarify things then?”

            “What, you thought I was paying attention? There was a girl with a bodacious ass walking by, I had to scope that business.”

            “…I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

            “And yet, you just did.”

            “Oh my… _BLARGH!_ ” [Katara turns away from Toph, looks up at the sky, buries her hands in her hair, and growls a highly imaginative and complex string of obscenities in her tribal dialect]

            [Toph looks smug] “Alright, Aang owes me twenty _yuan._ ”

            “…how could Aang _possibly_ owe you twenty _yuan?_ ”

            “Because I bet him that much that I wouldn’t be able to get you to do that thing where you swear in your tribal dialect because nobody can understand what you’re saying?”

            “Well, if you don’t know what I’m saying, how can you win the bet?”

            “Because I can tell when you’re lying…also, because _fuck_ sounds the same in _every_ language.”

            “…I hate you, Toph.”

            “No you don’t. You love me, you know you do…and besides, if you kill me, where else are you going to find an earthbending teacher willing to put up with Twinkletoe’s flighty bullshit?”

            “…I refer you to my previous statement. Alright, enough of this; we need to get un-lost, and _fast._ ”

            “Why fast? I’m having a good time, and besides, eventually someone will come out and find us. Sure, you’ll have to eat shit from Sokka for a couple of weeks, but hey, that doesn’t affect me.”

            “And why would it not?”

            “Because I’m not his little sister?”

            “…kiss my ass, Toph. Alright, anybody around here look like they might want to help us?”

            “The fuck should I know? _Blind._ ”

            “…I _so_ know that, Toph, but whatever, do your whole little…I dunno… _soul reading_ thing.”

            “Huh… _soul reading…_ I like that…I’m officially stealing it.”

            “Feel free, just see if anyone seems inclined to help.”

            “Hmm…oh, that guy feels promising.”

            “Which guy?”

            “The one striding by, walking with a purpose. Purposeful walking is always a good indicator of someone who knows their shit. Hop to it.”

            “Why do I have to do it?”

            “Because I didn’t get us lost?”

            “…have I mentioned that I hate you?”

            “Talk to the hand because the face don’t wanna hear it!”

            “ _GAH!_ ”

            [Katara ducks after the man Toph has indicated. Somehow, Toph manages to not die from laughter as she awaits the reveal. Katara calls to the man, who stops, and even from behind, she can tell he’s turned bright red, which seems strange, but whatever. The man turns just as Katara catches up to him.

            [Naturally, it’s Zuko, who looks just as stunned as Katara feels, neither of which emotions measure up to just how proud Toph is of herself.

            [Toph collects her payment from Iroh later that day. It’s not until the eve of the Black Sun Invasion that Zuko and Katara finally put two-and-two together.

            [Neither are even remotely amused.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright...normally, this is where I go, "pop over to FF for a longer, more comprehensive AN," but this time, there is literally NOTHING more to add to this. Like I said above, this is just pure, unapologetic, PWP whimsy. There is no twist, no point, no over-arching theme, just a little bit of fun. I had fun writing this, and I hope you had just as much fun reading it. Woo!
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, we return to the Cop/Doctor Modern-Day AU from "Secret Lovers" for a completely, one-hundred-percent true story from my life, which I will, in tried-and-true fashion, use to melt my wife's heart, because I'm talented like that. Stay tuned!


	5. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the best, happiest, most beautiful day of her life, which didn't change that fact that Katara was so nervous she was afraid she would faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the Cop/Doctor AU introduced in the entry for Secret Lovers.
> 
> Dedicated to my lovely, amazing, wonderful wife. Te amo, querida.

**Wedding**

THERE WERE SO MANY REASONS WHY THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE WORKED. He was a cop, she was a doctor, which meant that not only was her job held in higher esteem, but she would always make more, which far too many people seemed to consider relationship poison. There was the darkness of his past, the shattered family and the scars and the rage and anger he still struggled with every day of his life. There was the trial of her own past, a mother taken before her time, a father who refused to accept that his little girl was all grown up, the glowering disapproval for her life in Republic City and the man she had chosen to share it with. The naysayers – of which her own family were _far_ too prominent members for her comfort – even loved to point at their personalities, uttering endless diatribes about how there was no way two people as stubborn and proud and hard-headed as Sergeant Tazaki Zuko of the RCPD (recently promoted to the Drug Unit) and Katara, M.D., junior doctor at Republic City General, could possibly _ever_ work.

            But, as Zuko slid the wedding band onto her left ring finger, as she felt the tremor in his own hands, listened to the nervous rasp of his voice as he repeated the vows as the judge told them to him, looked deep into his eyes with her own, blinked back the burning of the tears because she was determined, _so gods-damn determined, I don’t care what you have to say about it Toph or what kinds of absurd bets you’ve made with Suki and Azula,_ not to cry on her wedding day, Katara was reminded, once more, all over again, just how little of a damn she gave.

            Because, at the end of the day, she loved him, and he loved her, and, as far as she was concerned, that was what mattered the most. They respected each other and valued each other. They didn’t put the other on a pedestal, didn’t put up with each other’s bullshit, reveled in the good times and soldiered through the bad. They never argued about the important things, like what to name their children or what to do with their money, just the little things, like how he couldn’t admit it when he was lost and she hated admitting that she was terrible at opening jars. She thought he was handsome and brave and strong and he thought she was beautiful and confidant and just the smartest person he’d ever known and she didn’t know if that was true but he seemed to think so and she’d decided to stop arguing with him about it and she couldn’t wait just a few more words she really hoped she didn’t mess them up oh gods Toph was handing her the ring and she was holding Zuko’s left hand and his hand was trembling or maybe that was just hers or maybe it was both it didn’t matter the moment was almost here just a few more minutes and it would be done and she would be the happiest girl in the world and Iroh was bawling like a baby and Yue ( _who shouldn’t have been here, she was six months’ pregnant after all but she had put her foot down with Sokka and Father and though Father had declined to make the trip from the South and so had Gran-Gran and Sokka **had to work** Yue was still here and that meant the world to Katara) _and Suki who was Zuko’s partner and Song from the hospital all had their arms around each other trying not to break down like Iroh who was leaning on Azula who looked torn between being annoyed at her uncle’s hysterics and proud of her brother and Toph needed to stop looking so damn pleased with herself and Zuko’s childhood friends Toru and Toshiro were beaming as they tried to help Azula with Iroh and this was the best day of her life she couldn’t wait and-

            The judge’s deep rumble sliced through her jumbled thoughts like a knife.

            “Now, are you ready, miss?”

            Katara nodded, only it didn’t come out like a nod, more like a slightly manic jerk of the head up and down, over-and-over-and-over again, she supposed she probably looked silly but Zuko was still smiling that dopey grin of his and she really didn’t care how she looked just then to anyone else but him.

            “I’m ready,” she said, in a voice far more confident than she felt, because she was terrified, absolutely _terrified,_ that she would mess something up and say the wrong thing at the wrong time or get something jumbled and a thousand-thousand things could go wrong and she had lain awake all night imagining every single last one of them and-

            “Repeat after me.”

            She took a deep breath, the deepest she had ever taken, and repeated.

            “I, Katara, take you, Zuko…”

            “I, Katara, take you, Zuko…”

            “To be my lawfully wedded husband…

            “To be my lawfully wedded husband…”

            “To have and to hold…”

            “To have and to hold…”

            “From this day forward…”

            “From this day forward…”

            “For better or for worse…”

            “For better or for worse…”

            “For richer or for poorer…”

            “For richer or for poorer…”

            “In sickness and in health…”

            “In sickness and in health…”

            “I promise to love you and honor you…”

            “I promise to love you and honor you…”

            “For all the days of my life…”

            “For all the days of my life…”

            “Until death do us part.”

            “Until death do us part.”

            And then she slid the ring on and he smiled at her and she smiled at him and how she didn’t burst into tears there and then she would never know and they were turning to the judge, hand-in-hand, and he was talking but she couldn’t hear him and she was feeling lightheaded for some reason and the edges of her vision were starting to darken and she didn’t know what was going on and then she felt someone leaning over her shoulder and a voice it sounded like Toph’s was whispering and it was saying-

            _“Psst, hey, Sugar Queen, you forgot to **breathe.**_ ”

            And oh gods she had forgotten to breathe she was just so excited and nervous and she wanted to get everything right and oh gods she was going to pass out and-

            _She breathed._

It was the single loudest breath she had ever taken, if she had seen someone take a breath like that in a movie she would’ve rolled her eyes and called it fake it was like something out of a cartoon but she wasn’t going to pass out that was what was important and people were chuckling and she didn’t care and the judge stood and spread his hands and said-

            “And now, by the power invested in me by the United Republic of the Four Nations and by our mutual faith in the gods and the spirits of this world and the next, it is my duty, pleasure, and _honor_ to pronounce you both man and wife.” He clasped his hands and bowed to them both, first to Katara, and then to Zuko, and said the words she had been dying to hear for a long, long time, doubters be damned.

            “You may now kiss the bride.”

            And she turned to him and he turned to her and she was popping up on her toes and he was holding her face in both of his hands and he whispered that he loved her and she whispered that she loved him, too, and the kiss came and it was the best damn kiss of her entire damn life. The entire courthouse burst into applause and she smiled and giggled and kissed him again, because she was determined that he wouldn’t see the tears sparkling in her eyes, _she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction,_ and then everyone was coming forward and there were bows and hugs and kisses and she couldn’t stop smiling, never really would, when, years and years later, she took a moment to think about it.

            And for the rest of the evening, after a nice dinner for everyone, once she and Zuko had gone with all their friends to their favorite bar across the street from their apartment, over the course of many, many, _many_ rounds, Toph would try – without success – to get Azula to admit that she was crying.

            Azula did finally admit it to Katara, years later, but Katara was sworn to secrecy, a silence she kept, like the good sister-in-law she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned up above, this is absolutely based on a completely true story, from my wedding, actually. Basically, my wife got so nervous and excited that she actually forgot to breathe, and, by her own admission, came very close to passing out.
> 
> It was exactly as adorable and heart-warming as it sounds. You can read the full background story - along with some information on the AU this story and "Secret Lovers" takes place in - in the AN to where this story is posted on FF.net, which you can find by looking up my SN there, kangaroo2010. You can also scope this on Tumblr (again under kangaroo2010), and feel free to follow me on Twitter @historybuff2013!
> 
> Tune in tomorrow, when we drop in on a deleted scene from my first fic, "A Different Path." See you then!


	6. Somebody to Die For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a deleted scene from "A Different Path," the Lady Mori has a very important question to ask Katara, a question that Katara realizes she knew the answer to all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings necessary; there's no bad language here, amazingly enough. You can find the story this is a deleted scene from, "A Different Path," on my FF page under kangaroo2010.

**Somebody to Die For**

“EXCUSE ME, LADY KATARA? DO YOU MIND IF I HAVE A WORD?”

            Katara just about passed out right then and there; it was a wonder that she didn’t yelp like a puppy in surprise. She had been sure that she was completely alone, standing out on the rear verandah of the Mori house, watching a blood-red sun set over the hills and pastures of the village of Tochigi. It had been a day fraught with tension, marked by emotional swings severe enough to exhaust even the strongest person. Everyone was worn thin, and she was no exception. Her nerves were frayed, her emotions ragged and sharp. That was why she had come out here, while the others struggled to find clothes that fit. Her and one of the Lady Mori’s daughters just happened to have almost the exact same measurements, so she quickly picked out an outfit, did up her hair, and slipped outside.

            That was where she was when the Lady Mori snuck up on her. It was nice outside, calm, quiet, peaceful. The heat of the day had broken with the fall of the sun, and a cool breeze blew in off the sea and into her face, ruffling her hair and caressing her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned against a pillar, letting her cares and worries and fears and pains seep out of her, stretching her consciousness as far as it would go, until she could almost feel the sea lapping against the shore. For a few blessed, peaceful moments, she puffed on one of Zuko’s cigarettes and forgot it all, pushed away the War and the coming blind gamble of an invasion and the tens of thousands of people, women and children and uniformed boys barely old enough to shave, fighting and crying and dying all over the world, whatever their nation, whatever their creed. It was all gone, and for that moment, that little sliver of time, she allowed herself to fall into fantasy, slipping into a realm where she was just a girl named Katara who had a really big crush on a boy named Zuko that was she was beginning to suspect was a lot more than a crush and…and…

            _And…_

Then the Lady Mori asked her question and Katara jumped about ten feet in the air and was honestly stunned that she didn’t burn herself with the half-smoked cigarette as she fumbled about trying not to drop it on the worn-smooth wood of the verandah.

            To her credit, the Lady Mori had the grace to look equal parts amused and apologetic, though Katara couldn’t help but notice the sly smirk on the old woman’s face as the Lady gave Katara a polite, shallow bow. “Apologies, young lady,” she said, rising as Katara returned the bow, just as Zuko had spent much of the voyage across the sea teaching them to do. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

            Katara allowed herself a small giggle. “It’s quite alright, my lady,” she answered, struggling not to wince at how her tongue refused to form Nihongo correctly, no matter how much she practiced with Zuko. “I was…a thousand miles away, to be honest. I’m just lucky it was you and not To…er, I mean, the Lady Bei Fong.”

            The Lady Mori allowed her smile to spread, calmly and carefully, and not for the first time, Katara caught herself marveling at the control those born into nobility had over themselves. They all seemed to have it, that borderline unnatural ability to control every bit of their bodies, down to the smallest muscle. Yue had had it, and Kuei, Zuko, even Toph, when she cared to.

            _Could I ever have that? Could I ever do that? Could I ever…_

_Ever be a part of…_

Katara paused in her thoughts, shook them off. Now was not the time to follow that road, to see where it led, to peek around the corners and ponder a possible future that was beginning to frighten her far less than it should. She refocused herself on the Lady Mori, who had turned to regard the sunrise, her smile becoming sad.

            “You know, my dear, I’m not originally from here.”

            Katara quirked an eyebrow as she took a last puff from her purloined cigarette and tossed it into the grass. “Oh, my lady?”

            The Lady Mori shook her head. “Oh, no. I was born on my family’s estate, up in the mountains. Shu Jing actually isn’t far from where I grew up. I was…you know, I was a little frightened, when I came here to marry my husband. I’d seen the sea, of course, been to Ember Island, to Miyako, like a good well-born lady should, but…I’d never imagined living so close to it. My world had been mountains and valleys, not sand and beaches.” She giggled, sounding for a moment like a little girl. “I was convinced I would forever smell of fish.”

            Katara tilted her head, wondering where this was going. “You hadn’t been here before?”

            “Oh, no, of course not. The marriage was arranged, as these things are; the _miai_ was conducted in Sapporo, during the Fire Festival. The next time I saw my husband-to-be was during the betrothal ceremony, before he went off to complete his National Service, and the third time I met him was on our wedding day.”

            Katara nodded; she wasn’t entirely sure what had brought this all on, where it was going, or what else she should do. She struggled for words, her tongue feeling thick and dead in her mouth. In the end, the best she could come up with was, “Do you…do you regret that?”

            The Lady Mori’s smile was back, a little less sad this time. “Oh, no, of course not. After all, commoners may be able to marry whom they wish, but that’s not for the high-born, is it? And I was lucky; my poor sister, she…” The smile quivered, faded, broke, and Katara’s heart fell with it. “My sister, she was not so lucky…her husband turned out to be a beast, a monster, treated her terribly. She used to cry, every time she came to see me, tell me how jealous she was, because I had a good husband whom I had fallen in love with and with whom I had built a good life.”

            Katara bowed her head. “I’m sorry, my lady.”

            The Lady Mori turned, until she had fixed one eye on Katara, the sun lighting her face and making her look both older and younger than she really was. “You’re the last person who needs to apologize, my dear. You’re the one fighting to make the world better, after all.”

            Katara sighed, letting her head lean back until it was resting on her pillar. “Sometimes, I’m not so sure…and who’s to say the world will be a better place if we win the War?”

            “Well,” the Lady Mori said, sounding…rather odd, really, if Katara was honest, “I know one thing will change: Arranged marriages will go out of style very quickly, once the people watch the new Fire Lord marry for love.”

            That brought Katara up short. She shot off her pillar, back snapping ramrod straight, eyes wide as saucers and mouth hanging open. “I…uh…I mean…um…” She stopped, wrapped her arms tight around her body, desperately tried to look the Lady Mori in the eye and just as desperately failing. “I mean…um…I’m not sure…uh…what you mean by…well… _that…_ ”

            The Lady Mori threw back her head and laughed, an action so out-of-place in someone so well-born and well-bred and personally conservative that Katara could only stand there and stare.

            “Oh, Lady Katara,” the Lady Mori said, clucking her tongue as she brought her laughter under control, “I think we _both_ know that you know _exactly_ what I mean.”

            Katara’s eyes shot around, because the _last_ thing she needed was for Toph to suddenly appear, or for her brother to pop out from around a corner and see her blushing beet-red. “Well…I mean… _maybe…_ though…that’s…um…well, you see…it’s…well… _complicated…”_

She finally gathered the courage to meet the Lady Mori’s eyes, in time to see one of the old woman’s eyebrows quirk upwards. “Is it now? Doesn’t seem too complicated to me. You have feelings for His Majesty, and His Majesty has feelings for you. Seems simple enough, really.”

            _Yeah, well, you’re not some random girl from the bottom of the world who’s beginning to suspect that she’s falling head-over-heels for someone who was just casually referred to as **His Majesty,** so, you know…_

Katara, naturally, didn’t say that, settling for, “Well…it’s just…you know…I’m not Fire Nation, you know, and my birth…”

            The Lady Mori scoffed. “So, you’re not Fire Nation? You think you’d be the first foreign-born Fire Lady? There’s a reason His Majesty and the Emperor Kuei are distant cousins, and as for your birth? I believe your...” A pause, a polite clearing the throat. “Your… _fascinating_ brother…was telling me that your father is a chief…?”

            Katara nodded. “He is, actually.”

            “Well then,” the Lady Mori said, in a tone that indicated that, as far as she was concerned, the matter was closed, “that settles it. By a very old treaty, tribal chiefs of the Southern Water Tribes are considered the equivalent of Dukes here in the Fire Nation, and most Fire Nation-born Fire Ladies were born the daughters of Dukes. Which,” and here, the Lady Mori’s face fell, and Katara really shouldn’t have felt relieved by the indication of a change of subject, but she really couldn’t help it, _I really don’t enjoy blushing like that, makes me feel like a silly girl,_ “I’m afraid, brings me to the reason I came out here to speak to you.”

            Katara set her shoulders, cleared her throat, and, feeling like she was back on solid ground, looked the Lady Mori right in the eye. “And what might that be, my lady?”

            The Lady Mori gave the setting sun a final, longing glance, then turned to Katara and the look on her face required Katara to suppress a gulp.

            “Do you,” the Lady Mori said, in a voice out of ancient legends of brave warriors and the fearless women who stood beside them, “know what will happen, should His Majesty’s rebellion fail?”

            Katara set her jaw, fought the urge to run inside and throw her arms around Zuko and finally give him the kiss she’d been longing to give him since the Crystal Catacombs, and nodded.

            “Yes,” she said. “He’ll be executed, and his head will decorate the front gate of the Palace in Miyako.”

            The Lady Mori shook her head. “That’s if he’s lucky. If he’s not, his usurper and tyrant of a father will cast him in the dankest, darkest cell in the Fire Nation and leave him there to rot.”

            Katara let her eyes fall. “It wouldn’t be the cruelest thing that bastard has done to Zuko…”

            “No,” the Lady Mori admitted, “it wouldn’t be. Do you know what will happen to you?”

            “Much the same, I would imagine.”

            “Not at all.”

            Katara’s head shot up, mind clouded with confusion. “Beg pardon?”

            “You,” the Lady Mori intoned, as if she was laying out ancient law, “are noble born, the daughter of a chief, the chief of one of the strongest tribes of the South, a man respected and admired by his people. You, and your brother, should either or both of you be captured, will be held hostage, your survival contingent on your father coming to terms. If the Avatar falls, then the world will come to heel, it will have no choice, and eventually, you will be ransomed and sent home, or, if the Usurper thinks it best, you will be married off to some noble here, the better to keep an eye on you. You will be treated according to your station; if your people behave, no harm will ever come to you. You will be fed, cared for, allowed various freedoms…” Her voice trailed off.

            Katara didn’t need to hear the rest. “While Zuko rots, either in a cell or on a spike.”

            The Lady Mori nodded, curt and quick. “Exactly.”

            Katara looked away; tears burned in her eyes, tears she refused to shed, or let the Lady Mori see. The Lady Mori had come out here to see a potential queen, and for reasons Katara was not yet quite able to articulate, she was determined that the Lady Mori would not go away disappointed.

            “What…excuse me, there appears to be something in my eye, um…what, exactly, are you getting at?”

            The question came, quick and sharp, just as Katara had somehow knew it would.

            “Do you love His Majesty?”

            It was an honest, heartfelt question, and Katara gave it an honest, heartfelt answer.

            “I don’t know yet…but I have a feeling I will know very soon, if I don’t already.”

            “Good. Look at me, my lady.”

            Katara looked, and her heart went cold as ice. The Lady Mori was holding two things. In one hand was a short dagger that looked sharp enough to carve through steel, while in the other was a carefully folded red silk strap, big enough to be tied tight around one’s legs.

            And because Katara had spent far more time alone with Zuko over the past few months than her brother would ever know, she knew exactly what those items were.

            _The dagger is to slit my throat. The silk strap is to bind my legs together, so that I may die in dignified pose. They are the elements of **jigai.**_

_The woman’s form of **seppuku** , of ritual suicide._

_The ritual the well-born girls and boys of the Fire Nation are taught how to do from birth, the final step when all that remains is death or, worse, dishonor, when you want to take one final chance to spit in your enemy’s eye. **Honor before reason, and death before dishonor.** That is the Fire Nation way, or was, before the Darkness came, and seppuku and jigai are how they make it stick._

That’s when it hit Katara, that’s when it all became clear, what it was the Lady Mori wanted to know, _needed to know._ The Lady Mori had just staked her life, the lives of her family, of her husband and the children that remained to her, of the servants and retainers whose lives would be forfeit if the gods were against her, on a young man who had set not foot in his homeland for over four years. She had stood with her husband and thrown the dice, and she could only hope that, no matter what happened to her, a boy named Zuko would throw his father from the throne and the Clan Mori would be remembered as heroes, rather than reviled as traitors.

            _And now she is looking me in the eye, and asking if the woman she thinks holds the heart of her Fire Lord in her hands has the heart and the fire and the passion to see it all through._

_She wants to know if I will stand with her Fire Lord to the end._

The only thing that would surprise Katara, when she thought about it later, was that the choice was not harder, that the choice, in the end, wasn’t really even a choice at all.

            As if she had known all along where her future lay.

            She took the dagger, took the strap, and bowed, low and deep, and when she rose, her face was lit by a smile she felt down to her core.

            “If you think, my lady, that I am the kind of person who would leave their best friend to die alone, then you have sorely misjudged my character.”

            A look of relief spread across the Lady Mori’s face, and the Lady Mori returned Katara’s bow, just as low, just as deep.

            “If anything, my lady, it would appear that I judged your character with perfect accuracy.”

            To say that Katara was touched to the point of tears by those words would, she decided later, be the understatement of the century, on par with _Toph Bei Fong has a bit of a foul mouth._

*** * * * ***

            Later, when all was said and done and Katara wore a crown in the shape of golden flame, every year, on the anniversary of the day the agents of the Tyrant Ozai tore the Mori Clan apart, she traveled to the sleepy village of Tochigi. There, she went to a shrine that Their Majesties had personally commissioned, and went on her knees to the altar. She would give an offering, light a stick of incense, and kindly ask of the gods to watch over the Mori Clan, and the Lady Mori most of all.

            The dagger and the silken cord were kept in view of her side of the bed she shared with her husband, so that she would never, _ever,_ forget the faith a kind old woman had placed in her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, you can find this story with a comprehensive AN over on FF.net under kangaroo2010, where you can also find the story this chapter is a deleted scene from. I apologize in advance for the rampant typos and the occasionally strange narrative choices (I was young and stupid, okay?), and if you don't want to read the whole damn thing, the relevant bit is in chapters twenty-one, twenty-two, and twenty-three.
> 
> You can also find this on Tumblr, with a bunch of other cool stuff, under the SN kangaroo2010, and follow me on Twitter @historybuff2013.
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, if you thought today was a gut-punch in the feels, you ain't seen nothing yet. Stay tuned!


	7. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a cold winter day in the Fire Nation, in the looming shadow of a royal funeral, an old woman named Katara has one very important, very vital lesson to try and teach her granddaughter: Follow your heart, or risk a lifetime consumed with regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by an idea from Lady_Kaelyn_of_Midgard, said idea being so brilliant I'm still kicking myself for not thinking of it sooner. You should also go scope her shit out.

**Regret**

[THE OLD WOMAN NAMED KATARA IS SITTING IN A CHAIR BY A MASSIVE SET OF WINDOWS, EXACTLY WHERE KORRA HAD EXPECTED TO FIND HER. The old woman is buried under a pile of blankets, a long-cooled cup of tea sitting forgotten on a small table by her elbow. The scene is a perfect picture of loneliness and despair; it breaks Korra’s heart, though she’s not entirely sure why.]

            “Gran-Gran?”

            [A sigh, a shift of the shoulders, but Katara does not turn from the window. Outside, snow is falling thick and heavy. Winter has come to Miyako, and Korra cannot help but think of the half-hearted jokes circulating through a heartbroken nation, about a Fire Lord who insisted on doing things his own way right up to the end.]

            “Yes, Korra?”

            “I…do you mind if I come in and talk to you?”

            [Another sigh from the old woman, a sound of rustling fabric as she continues to run her old gnarled fingers over the beautiful blue dress spread across her lap.]

            “I don’t mind at all, Korra. Come, pull up a chair, keep your old grandmother company.”

            [This is what Korra does. Her mother has sent her with a mission, but it is a mission she is not entirely sure she wants to carry through. The second Korra is settled, a servant materializes at her elbow, asks if she needs anything. She shakes her head, politely declines, and the servant disappears, vanishing like a puff of smoke back to wherever servants lurk when they’re not needed.]

            “I…look, Gran-Gran, I won’t lie, Mother-“

            “He loved the snow.”

            “-sent me here to…um…what now?”

            “The snow. He loved it when it snowed, the harder and thicker, the better. Do you know why?”

            “Um…I don’t…uh…Gran-Gran, who’re we talking about?”

            [The sun is hidden behind a thick wall of clouds, and those clouds themselves are obscured by a window thick with frost, and yet somehow, someway, Korra can’t help but feel that her grandmother’s face lights up, and for a moment, she looks like a young woman again.]

            “Zuko, of course. He loved the snow, said it was because his father hated the snow, hated the cold, so, when it snowed, he would go out and play in it, safe in the knowledge that his father would never come out and find him, not so long as it kept falling. He always said that, after his mother died, those were some of the only moments of happiness in his entire life.”

            “Oh…um…I see…but…wait, Zuko? Are we talking about the Fire Lord, gods rest his eternal soul?”

            [The light is gone, in a flash, and when Gran-Gran Katara speaks, Korra shudders at the desolate coldness in her voice.]

            “His name was Zuko, Korra, never forget that. Before he was a king, he was just a boy named Zuko. That’s all he ever really wanted to be, deep down where it mattered, even after his people insisted on shoving a crown into his hands.”

            [For a moment, Korra’s mind is flooded with whispers, with rumors of ill-starred lovers torn apart by duty, kept apart by honor. Before, she had always dismissed these stories; her grandmother was her grandmother, and the strange circumstances by which the Hundred Years’ War had ended had produced all sorts of strange theories. By that window, though, looking at the pain in her grandmother’s eyes, Korra can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, some of those stories were true.]

            “Oh…um…okay then…but…listen, Gran-Gran, I really do need to talk to you about-“

            “I know what you want to talk to me about. Your mother – my daughter, I might add – sent you here to reason with me, to try to convince me to not wear blue to the funeral.”

            “Well…in a word…yes, that’s exactly what she sent me in here to do…and also to apologize for snapping at you the way she did this morning.”

            [An old, quivering hand comes up, and bats the apology aside.]

            “Tell your mother that she is forgiven. At the end of the day, she’s my daughter, and I love her; it’s not her fault she’s too much like me for her own good.”

            [Korra bites down on a laugh.]

            “She…Mother said much the same thing, Gran-Gran. Still, about the dress…”

            “No.”

            “You see…um…what?”

            “I know exactly what you’re going to say, Korra. You’re going to play on how I’ve always indulged you, never been able to tell you no. You’re going to point out that I shouldn’t even be here, that I’m a personal guest of Her Majesty the Dowager Fire Lady, that everyone else is going to be wearing white as is good and proper for a Fire Nation funeral, _especially_ a royal one, and that it would be a great affront to the Royal Family, who have been so kind and generous to you over the past three years as you have mastered your firebending.”

            “I…well…that about sums it up, Gran-Gran. I mean, what would people say, if the grandmother of the Avatar showed up wearing a blue dress to a Fire Nation funeral?”

            “They won’t dare say a word, not where Mulan can hear them.”

            “I…um…you mean the Dowager Fire Lady, right…?”

            [The smile finally returns to Katara’s face, but, to Korra’s distress, the light seems to remain far, far away, shrouded in shadow.]

            “No, I mean Mulan, the Lady Fa Mulan, the same woman who ignored all kinds of protocol to invite me here as her personal guest.” [A soft laugh, a quiet chuckle.] “Of course, Mulan has ignored tradition and protocol before, it was why Uncle chose her all those years ago…”

            [Korra frowns.] “What, you mean that silly story about Her Majesty running away from home after the fall of Ba Sing Se to join the army?”

            [Only then does Katara turn her face from the window, regarding her granddaughter with a quirked eyebrow and a strange, distant expression, and even then, only for a moment.]

            “Yes, my dear, that silly, silly story.” [Another sigh, and Korra watches her grandmother turn back to the window.] “Just a bunch of silly, nonsensical stories…I wanted to hate her, you know.”

            “I…um…come again?”

            “Mulan; I wanted to hate her so very much. It wasn’t her fault, wasn’t any of our faults. My father had a chance, with two well-placed marriages for myself and my brother, to end centuries of the Southern Water Tribes squabbling and fighting amongst themselves, to pave the way to peaceful unification for the first time in our history, and then an offer came from the Emperor in Ba Sing Se and Zuko had a chance to truly turn the page on a century of bloodshed between the nations of Earth and Fire. Our duty was clear, our responsibility, this was peace we were talking about, bigger than any one single person, and none of that was Mulan’s fault, was nobody’s fault. After all, she ended up not getting what she really wanted, deep down inside, either…but…I still wanted to hate her…oh, how I wanted to hate her…”

            [Korra is completely lost. She’s only eighteen-years-old, after all, for all that she is the Avatar and thus, technically, at least, one step away from immortal. But, as she so often finds, it’s the first number that counts, not the second, and the complexities of an old woman’s regret is still beyond her comprehension.

            [Not that she doesn’t try. She is Korra, after all.]

            “But…why would you hate her at all? She’s a wonderful person, has probably forgotten more about earthbending than I will ever know, and…” [It’s Korra’s turn to chuckle.] “Apparently, she was pretty handy with a sword in her younger days…”

            [The old woman sighs.]

            “Yes, she was, I’ll give her that. Uncle chose well.”

            “Um… _Uncle…?”_

“Don’t worry about it; it was long before your time, my dear, though, with luck, maybe you’ll run into him one of these days.”

            “Oh…um… _okay, then…”_

[A final sigh, and when Katara speaks, Korra knows, for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, that the matter is closed.]

            “I’m not changing my mind. Tell your mother that I’m sorry, but remind my daughter that her stubbornness comes from somewhere, because it sure as hell didn’t come from her father. I’m wearing the blue dress I brought with me from home, and that’s the end of it.”

            [Korra nods; it’s about all she can think to do.]

            “Well…okay then, Gran-Gran. You…um…you really think the Royal Family won’t mind?”

            [The smile is back, along with the light.]

            “Not one bit, and if they do, Mulan will set them straight. She knows as well as I do that Zuko would never have stood for my wearing anything but blue to his funeral. He…he always loved me best in blue…”

            [Korra nods once more, stands, goes over and hugs her grandmother.]

            “Well…then you do what you do, Gran-Gran. I’ve tried, and now I’m going to go talk Mother down from the ledge she’s currently put herself on. I love you, Gran-Gran.”

            “I love you, too, Korra.”

            [Kisses are exchanged, and then Korra is walking away, already putting the speech she’ll have to give to her mother together in her head. So absorbed is she in this, that she almost misses her grandmother’s call.]

            “Korra…?”

            [Korra stops, turns, brow furrowed, confused.]

            “Yes, Gran-Gran?”

            “If there is one thing, and one thing only, that you learn from me, let it be this: Never, _ever_ , let your sense of duty and propriety silence your heart. Listen to that heart, follow it, and never, ever, not _ever_ , give up on your dreams, or else you’ll end up like me, an old woman, filled with regret for what might have been.”

            [Korra doesn’t know how long she stands there, only that it feels like a long time.]

            “I…I’ll try, Gran-Gran. I’m the Avatar, and I can’t make any promises, but…I’ll try. I promise.”

            “Good, because that means you’re already a better woman than I ever was. See you at dinner, Korra.”

            “You, too, Gran-Gran.”

            [Korra turns around quickly, and it’s all she can do to keep herself from running out of the room. Such an action is rude, she knows, but she can’t help herself; she is willing, in that moment, to do anything, anything at all, to not have to see her grandmother carefully, quietly, silently, sobbing uncontrollably.

            [Somehow, she knows, deep down inside, that her grandmother wants very much to be left alone for a while.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man...that was...that was rough, guys, so rough I don't feel like rambling on...
> 
> Though I totally do, I just rambled plenty in the comprehensive AN over on FF.net, where you can, as is traditional, find this story under my SN of kangaroo2010. It's also on Tumblr under the same SN, and you can, as usual, follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, in which I finish the story begun in "Drunk" and, because I'm nothing it not cruel, gut-punch your feels even worse than I did today. Hey, don't get mad, you should've known I was up to something when I gave you that unadulterated bit of fluff on Saturday. See you then!


	8. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He would never know what drew him to her, but two things would always stay with him: Her name, and her lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a continuation of "Drunk," and, like "Drunk," there be some adult language and some adult themes lurking ahead.
> 
> Inspired by Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, by John le Carre.

**Lullaby**

(He would never know what drew him to her, but two things would always stay with him: Her name, and her lullaby; inspired by _Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy_ and the story of Irina)

THE FIRST TIME ZUKO SAW HER, IT WAS COMPLETELY BY ACCIDENT. Well, maybe not an _accident, per se,_ it wasn’t like he was there by chance, but, then again, he hadn’t assumed his little perch to watch her, had he? No, he was there to take a look at the man who seemed to be going around calling himself _Jet,_ for all that Zuko was willing to bet a year’s salary that that wasn’t the man’s real name. _Isn’t even a good cover name,_ Zuko couldn’t help but think with a sneer of disdain as he took a sip from his thermos and lit another cigarette. The sneer turned into a grimace as the tea worked its way through his system. He’d brought the thermos with him, but had had it filled up by an old woman working a little hole-in-the-wall shop on his way to the vantage point. It tasted like it’d been filtered through a dirty jockstrap and smelled like it, too, but it was thick and black and strong and it kept him awake, which was all he really wanted it from it, in the end.

            It was dreadfully boring at first, his vigil, complete with the ever creeping sense of _time poorly wasted_ that had been dogging him since he’d first caught sight of his ostensible _quarry._ Getting into the building had been a piece of cake, a simple matter of walking up to a night watchman who was too drunk, too lazy, too fat, or all of the above to even bother standing up at Zuko’s approach, convincing the poor sap Zuko had no intention of stealing anything ( _after all, he was alone, and hadn’t brought so much as a satchel with him_ ), and then slipping the guy a hundred _won_ to forget Zuko was ever there. Then, it was up the stairs to the twelfth floor, because nobody ever took the stairs and he felt like he needed the exertion, after which he’d found the abandoned office, jimmied the lock, set himself up by the window, lit a cigarette, and waited.

            And waited.

            And _waited…_

He could never remember when he spotted the girl. His binoculars were fixed on the thirteenth floor, on the windows of a hotel room that was far too nice for some junior flunky with a routine trade delegation but more than adequate for a ham-handed would-be spy who didn’t seem to think that _tradecraft_ was of vital importance to anybody. But Jet seemed determined not to put in an appearance, for reasons Zuko could only guess at, and his gaze began to wander, his eyes desperately seeking out something, _anything,_ that could be of any interest at all.

            And that’s when he saw her. She was sitting at a little desk in a little room up on the fourteenth floor, gazing out the windows, absently puffing on a cigarette and sipping a cup of something that Zuko found himself hoping tasted better than what he was swilling. She was dressed in a loose set of rather conservative pajamas, her long, wavy hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, her dark skin providing a startling contrast to the cream-white color of the pajamas. She was beautiful, Zuko could tell that at a glance, and obviously of Water Tribe extraction, but neither of those were what drew his attention. There were beautiful women in a half-dozen windows within his view, several of them doing far more interesting things in far more interesting outfits, and while he was human enough to give such goings-on a glance, he was also old enough and, if he was honest, buttoned-down-enough to quickly grow bored and move on.

            No, there was… _there was something different about her._ Something… _something special._ He zoomed in, focused, yearning to find out what it might be. The longer he looked, the more his practiced eye picked out details. She had a pair of thick-framed eyeglasses on, but the way she kept fiddling with them told him that she didn’t wear them very often. There was a professional-looking outfit draped over the end of the bed, carefully pressed and arranged, but it was blatantly not in the least bit expensive. She was low on whatever totem pole she existed on, and she looked tired, very tired, so tired he wondered why she didn’t sleep.

            Maybe that was what caught his attention: The exhaustion so deep, she couldn’t sleep. He knew that feeling.

            He knew it very well.

            And then she was up, startled, like a fox-antelope that’s just heard a hunter’s gunshot echoing over the hills. For a second, Zuko came close to panic. _Has she seen me? Is she even now on her way to the phone to call the police, report the pervert staring through her window?_ But then she was turning, away from the window, towards the door, and Zuko swung his binoculars to his left and saw on the other side of the door a visibly intoxicated Jet, slamming his fists against what Zuko could only assume was very thin, very cheap plywood. Jet banged and banged, on and on, and he looked like he was shouting, though what he was shouting, Zuko could only guess, he never was good at reading lips, that was always his sister’s skill. The girl was walking to the door, slowly, carefully, her arms wrapped tight around her body, and Zuko found himself invested. He was begging, begging over and over again in his mind, _don’t go, don’t open the door, don’t do it, turn around, walk away, just walk away,_ and for a few disturbing seconds, he was a child again, holding his sobbing sister as, somewhere in the house, their mother begged their father to stop and Zuko begged for wings so they could all fly away.

            The girl had stopped at the door. She was shaking her head, saying something, something that seemed to drive Jet into ever increasing levels of fury. He was really pounding on the door now, waving a finger, and Zuko would’ve bet good money that he was making some sort of threat, tossing out some sort of boast, but the girl wasn’t bending, she was heading to the bathroom now, she had picked up a bucket, then she came back and the bucket was filled with water and she was setting the bucket on the ground and the water was coming alive and she shouted something and suddenly Jet recoiled. He turned, stomped down the hallway out of sight, came back, left once more, came back again. He gave the door one last kick, and Zuko didn’t need to be able to read lips to know the guy was shouting something along the lines of _just you wait, you’ll be sorry,_ and then he was gone, and the water settled back into the bucket and the girl had hurled herself into the bed and her face was buried in her hands and her body was shaking and Zuko was gathering his things and heading out the door and he barely even remembered to lock back up behind himself, terrible tradecraft, really, his sister would chew his ass if she ever knew.

*** * * * ***

            The first time he met her was the same night as when he first saw her. Getting into the hotel had been easy; he just breezed right past the doorman, and when one of the girls at the front counter called out to him he just grunted, muttered, _Yeah, yeah, I got my fucking key, buzz off,_ and then he was in the stairwell and on his way up, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t even rate as the third rudest guest that _hour,_ much less that night. On the fourteenth floor, he paused, ducked into an alcove, dabbed the sweat from his brow, gave himself a shake. He ran his fingers through his hair, looked at the time on his watch. It was around midnight, the night crew wouldn’t cycle through for another three hours, he’d be long gone by then, tossed his thermos and his binoculars in the nearest trashcan, took a deep breath, let it out, began walking, slowly, calmly, down the hallway.

            He thought of a lot of things during that last, fateful minute. He thought of what he would say, how he would play it. He had already gotten a read off Jet, figured him for the kind of creep who would brag about all the secret knowledge he was privy to, anything to impress the nearest girl into bed with him, and the more the girl resisted, the more he would say, while the girl in the hotel room seemed like the kind of girl who wasn’t a girl, but a woman, and a woman who would be eager for the chance to make the asshole who wouldn’t leave her alone pay. _And she’s Water Tribe, too, not Earth Kingdom, so she might be more willing to give me a chance, lend me an ear._ He would play it slow, though, play it easy. He had four more days until he had to go home, and at least three days after that until Azula started to worry about him, and even then, she’d be more likely to come find him than she would to report him AWOL.

            _And if that happens, even better. I’m just a scalphunter, I have a feeling there might be buried treasure here, and whatever the girl on the other side of this door won’t tell me, she’ll tell an actual agent, and Azula’s the best that there ever was…_

_Except for maybe Uncle, of course._

He took a deep breath, let it out, rapped his knuckles lightly on the door. He positioned himself carefully, one shoulder pressed to the wood, the unmarked side of his face clearly visible. He ran a final hand through his hair, until it was somewhere between mussed and kempt, tried to give an air of _concerned citizen, just checking up on everyone, no worries, I’ll go if you don’t-_

“Who is it?”

            The voice was in Inuktitut, and though it was soft, it was threaded with steel, carefully calculated to deter any intruder. Zuko spoke Inuktitut just fine, but he figured he should keep that to himself.

            “Um…” he began, stumbling through Hangugeo as if he didn’t speak it perfectly. “Just…um…what was that, ma’am?”

            There was a pause, and he could feel the relief through the door, the relief but also the wariness. _Gods, what has that asshole downstairs been putting her through?_ The familiar rage blossomed deep in the pit of his stomach, but he fought it, wrestled with it, forced it down. _Be calm, be cool, be professional,_ his sister’s voice intoned in his ears. _And, for once in your gods-damn life, Zu-Zu, think before you fucking leap, okay?_

He allowed himself a small smile. _Okay, Zula, got it, alright? Just **chill.**_

            The voice came back, stronger this time, more forceful, in solid Hangugeo, the final indication that she was in the same trade delegation Jet pretended to be a part of. “Nothing, don’t worry about it…um…who are you?”

            He leaned back from the peephole, careful to show his good side ( _such as it was_ ), did his best to smile. “Name’s Hajime, ma’am, Mishima Hajime. I’m just a couple doors down, heard the racket, thought I’d come check on you, see if you were okay.” There was silence, and Zuko became very aware of the weight of his tongue in his mouth, fought down an incipient stutter, pressed on, willed his hand away from the back of his neck. “It’s just…um…well…I thought about calling the police, you know? I…” _A good spy tells as much of the truth as possible,_ Uncle’s voice gently reminded him. _The best lies are at least ninety-percent unvarnished truth._ “Heh…you see, I…I don’t like things like that, but…well…experience has taught me to always ask first, you know? Try to find out what’s going on, but…” He paused, swallowed hard, didn’t even have to fake how dry and scratchy his throat felt. “If you…um…I can go, if you’d rather, just thought I’d…I dunno…it was stupid…just…um…”

            The door opened, not wide, the chain kept it from swinging all the way, but enough, _oh gods, more than enough,_ because she was there, and there was a curious smile on her face, and she was the most beautiful woman that Zuko had ever seen in his entire life.

            Which was good, because if he hadn’t been dumbstruck, he had a sneaking suspicion he would’ve ruined the illusion.

            She examined him closely, looking him up and down, taking in every inch, and then she was nodding towards the left side of his face and it was only then that he realized that he’d been so caught off-guard that he’d turn to fully face her and his scar was on full display.

            And for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel self-conscious about it.

            “Don’t take this wrong way,” she said, in rather impressive Nihongo, Zuko wasn’t too surprised, she was obviously bright, but it didn’t take a genius to see that he was Fire Nation, “but…how did you get that scar?”

            Zuko considered a lie, discarded it, went with the truth, hooking a thumb in the direction that Jet had gone. “A guy like that, if the truth be told.”

            She nodded, and she seemed to be smiling, though he couldn’t be sure, suspected it was only his imagination. “I…you know, I believe you…”

            He tried on a dopey grin, took comfort from the fact that her own smile didn’t disappear, that she didn’t slam the door, which was what most people did when he tried to smile. “Yeah, well…I’ve always found that it’s best to stick to the truth as much as possible.”

            She laughed, soft, distant, but a laugh nonetheless, and he felt absurdly proud that he’d gotten it out of her. “Yeah…that’s a good rule for a spy.”

            _Shit. Should’ve thought this through. She sees right through me, and why shouldn’t she? Or she doesn’t; maybe she’s just messing me. Calm, cool, and professional, dipshit._

_Calm, cool, and professional._

He forced himself to chuckle. “What gave you that idea?”

            She tilted her head until her brow was resting on the doorjamb, and he was pretty sure she really was smiling now, or, at the very least, was amused. “Oh, this and that. What’s your room number?”

            He pondered how to answer that, saw a lifeline, latched on to it. “You know, for someone who seems to think I’m a spy…you don’t seem in a hurry to slam the door and report me.”

            The smile faded. “That’s because you don’t know who I’d have to report you to.”

            _I knew it._ “The asshole who was just banging on the door?”

            Her expression turned savage, almost feral, and he was suddenly very glad that she had yet to have reason to hate him, even a little. “I’m afraid so,” she admitted. “Being a citizen of a nation that’s little more than a puppet of the Earth Kingdom has some… _unfortunate_ drawbacks.”

            Zuko found himself thinking of how _puppet_ was a good way to describe the position of the Northern Water Tribe relative to his own country, and pushed the thought away, classifying it as _profoundly_ unhelpful. “Yeah, well…them’s the shakes, I supposed.” He frowned, pointed past her shoulder and into the room. “Since you’re speaking so frankly, I take it that your room isn’t bugged?”

            She let out a hollow laugh. “You kidding? That son-of-a-bitch Jet made sure it wasn’t, you know, _for privacy._ Made a big deal about how I should thank him for it.”

            He nodded, stuck his hands deep in his pockets. “Well, if you’re sure…how about I come in, sit down, have a chat?”

            She closed her eyes then, closed her eyes and seemed to fade far, far away. He shifted his feet awkwardly, first one, then the other, and he couldn’t help himself this time, his hand drifted out of his pocket and up to his neck, began to absently rub. He very much wanted a cigarette, could feel his current packet sitting in the inside pocket of his jacket, could feel the spares stashed around in other pockets. He wanted nothing more than to get a positive answer from her, wanted that more than anything, and he wasn’t good enough at self-deception to pretend that it was all _professional,_ no, not at all.

            That’s when he became aware of the humming, soft and low, and he realized it was from her. Her eyes were closed and half her mouth was up in a grin and the other half was down in a frown, and she was humming a tune he didn’t recognize, but it sounded…

            _It sounded like a lullaby…_

“You know what?”

            He blinked, smiled, snatched his hand from the back of his neck, crammed it into his pocket. “What, miss?”

            She opened her eyes, closed the door, undid the chain, opened it, jerked her head to let him know to follow her.

            “I’ve got a better idea. How about you take me out for a few drinks, and we talk somewhere that isn’t certified _surveillance device-free_ by the guy currently trying to intimidate his way into my pants?”

            He chuckled, because that was _exactly_ what he was going to suggest, if she’d proved amenable to his request. “Sounds good to me.” He stepped inside, let the door close behind him, moved to the little desk by the window. There was an ashtray there, and he dug out his cigarettes, stuck one in his mouth, couldn’t be bothered to look for a lighter, turned to face the window and lit it with a snap of his fingers. “Mind if I smoke?”

            “Not at all,” came the reply, as she grabbed some clothes from her suitcase and headed into the bathroom.

            “Great. Mind if I ask your name?”

            A pause, a laugh, and then an answer.

            “Katara.”

*** * * * ***

            When it was all said and done, there would be two things that haunted him, haunted him even more than her deep blue eyes or the feel of her hair as he ran his fingers through it.

            One, would be her name.

            The other, would be her lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned above, this is a continuation of the AU set up in "Drunk." I planned to end everything today, with a nice little emotional gut-punch, but then I changed my mind, a bunch of other things happened, blah, and blah, and some blah, ANYHOO, point is, that AU will now be a nice little trilogy, wrapping up with "Unravel" on December 21st. If you'd like to know the full story, by all means pop by my account on FF.net under kangaroo2010 and read the comprehensive AN I have chilling over there. You can also find me on Tumblr under kangaroo2010, and on Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> Anyways, that's all for today. Tune in tomorrow for a story set in my second fic, "Wild, Wild Love," which isn't the best, but is full of fluffy fun...the fic, not tomorrow's chapter, wherein we encounter an unexpected character stepping into the Caverns of Destiny to make an unexpected decision. See you then!


	9. Sun and Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai met her destiny with a smile on her face, content in the fact that she had been granted a glimpse into what it was to love through Katara's smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up on my second fic, "Wild, Wild Love," which can be found on my FF.net profile under kangaroo2010. It's not essential to read that before you read this, but hey, if you want to, I won't stop you, who doesn't love page views?
> 
> Also, Azula's hanging around, so there DEFINITELY be adult language and adult themes ahead.

**Sun and Moon**

WHEN THE GUARDS COME FOR HER, MAI IS NOT SURPRISED. If anything, she’s relieved. They knock on the door and ask her to come with them. They frisk her, but not roughly, and when one of them dares to try and show her the way, a glare is all it takes to cow him into submission. She reads the signs, nods, and allows herself a thin, satisfied smile. She is still the Lady Arinori Mai, scion of one of the oldest and proudest noble clans in all the Fire Nation, only daughter of His Grace the Duke Arinori, a woman considered high born enough to be betrothed to the boy who was once heir to the Scarlet Throne. She is not rushed, not hurried, not manhandled, not barked at. She is shown the proper deference and respect, which means that Azula doesn’t know what to do.

            It means that Ty Lee was successful.

            It means that Katara is safe, and on her way back to Zuko.

            It means…

            Mai sighs. _It means that I’m probably walking to my death._ She doesn’t let that ruffle her, though. She is the Lady Arinori Mai, and if there is one thing that the noble-born girls of the Fire Nation are taught how to do, it’s how to die.

*** * * * ***

            The guards do not dare enter what was once the throne room of the Emperors of the Earth Kingdom. Their fear is palpable; it hangs in the air like a thick fog, drips from the walls like sweat on a hot summer’s day. The men posted at the doors shake as they open them, and it’s all any of them can do to prevent themselves from just shoving Mai inside and slamming the doors behind her.

            It doesn’t take long to see why. The Princess Azula is in a towering rage. The throne room is covered in scorch marks, the Jade Throne itself broken into charred pieces and scattered over the blasted marble floors. There is a scent of burned flesh and dried blood in the air, and Mai takes a moment to close her eyes and offer a silent prayer for the poor soul unlucky enough to bring Azula the news.

            In the center of the destruction stands the Princess herself. She is shaking from head-to-toe, gnashing her teeth, her body a flurry of jerky motions, her head tossing from side-to-side, as if she is trying to shake off whispers that only she can hear. Mai stands there for what feels like a long time, spine straight, shoulders back, chin out, every inch the noblewoman she was born to be. The calm she feels, even as Azula finally notices her existence and strides towards her, is exquisite. Mai has never felt so relaxed, so utterly free of fear. She even feels…

            _Feels…_

_I feel happy, happy, light, and carefree._

She lets go of the smile, lets go of herself.

            _So that’s what that feels like…to smile, to be exquisitely, indescribably happy._

_This is what it feels like to smile like Katara did, when Azula sent me to see her in her cell, trying to play one of her tricks. I looked at Katara, up and down, saw the purple betrothal necklace and the golden band on her left ring finger, the same hand that seemed to refuse to leave her stomach._

_I asked her long she’d been pregnant, and before she thought to try and lie, she smiled. I’d never been so jealous of anyone as I was at that moment._

_I’m not jealous anymore._

And then Azula was standing before her and grabbing the front of her clothes and shaking her and screaming and Mai just smiled and waited, waited for the storm to pass.

            _After all, I’m just playing for time now, aren’t I?_

-$-$-$-$-$-

            The storm passed, or, at least, the first wave of it. Mai had known Azula long enough, watched her deteriorate, slowly, inexorably, knew enough to know that this was all just the calm before the main event.

            And she was _so_ beyond caring.

            _I am done being afraid._

“What did you do, Mai?”

            Mai shrugged. Azula had let go of her clothes, had stomped off to sit and sulk on the lump of rock that was all that remained of the Jade Throne, which meant that Mai was free to smooth out the wrinkles and examine her fingernails.

            “I should that should be fairly obvious. I suborned Ty Lee to treason, and then, between the two of us, we spirited Katara out of the cell you threw her in. Then, I engaged in a rather impressive deception, giving them both the time to get out of the city.” She nodded at her hand, dropped it, lifted the other, because why examine only one set of fingernails when you can examine both? “It wasn’t that hard, actually. Your men are so terrified of you that, when they discovered Katara’s absence, they came to me first. I promised to break the news to you, then sat and waited until someone finally mustered up the courage to come to you directly.” She dropped her second hand, satisfied with her inspection, _one must not go to face the gods looking anything but one’s best,_ and sniffed the air. “From what I can tell, he is no longer of this world.”

            Azula’s whole body jerked, like a rapid dog in the last throes of madness. Her fists balled, blood trickled down the fingers from where her nails were digging into her palms, steam began to rise from her ears, and for a moment, Mai was pretty sure she was about to die, which was fine, really, _though a little warning would be nice._

She barely resisted the urge to shake her head and cluck her tongue. _It’s like the old joke goes: The Tokugawas are tough, sure, but they have no class._

_Or something to that effect._

“Alright, _fine,_ ” Azula spat out, grinding her words through gritted teeth, “I accept _what_ you’ve done. _Why,_ though? _Why_ would you betray me this way? Why would _Ty Lee_ betray me this way?”

            Mai looked Azula right in the eye, and couldn’t help but feel sad for the girl. The rage was genuine, the rage and the madness, but so was the pain, the pain and the fear. At the end of the day, Azula honestly believed that Mai and Ty Lee were her friends, that they loved her and cherished her company, that they had joined her mission to hunt down the Avatar and her wayward brother out of the kindness of their hearts.

            _She honestly believes that, which only makes her all the more terrifying._

Mai allowed herself a soft, single chuckle. _Not that I’m afraid anymore._

_One can’t go to the gods afraid. It wouldn’t be proper._

“Well,” Mai said, in the disinterested tone she had perfected from childhood, “I can answer for Ty Lee easily enough. Katara was pregnant, and it was only a matter of time until you put an end to that. Ty Lee loves babies, and once Katara confirmed that it was true, and that it was Zuko’s, well…that pretty much made her mind up for her.” _Though the fact that you burned down her family’s circus and held a knife to her father’s throat until she agreed to join this farcical little **hunt** didn’t exactly complicate her decision._

            Azula was up, punching a series of fireballs into an already blasted wall, and she was screaming, screaming like the demons that seemed to possess her more and more with every passing day.

            **_“I fucking KNOW she was pregnant! We caught her outside of a gods-damn motherfucking MIDWIFE! Why do you think I had you take her fucking MOON TEA?!”_**

“Because you’re a sad, lonely little girl, too twisted by your bastard father’s hatred to see clearly?”

            That really set Azula off. She punched out two more fireballs, sent them sailing over each of Mai’s shoulders. Mai felt the heat, sniffed the smell of a few stray strands of hair getting singed, but didn’t move a muscle.

            Not one.

            **_“WHAT DO PEOPLE KEEP SAYING THAT?! I’M NOT SAD, I’M NOT LONELY! ZUKO’S WRONG, HE’S ALWAYS WRONG, HE’S FUCKING WRONG, I’LL MAKE HIM PAY, MAKE HIM FUCKING PAY!!!”_**

“And you wonder why I turned against you.”

            Azula stopped screaming, stomped over to Mai, until their noses were almost touching and Mai could feel the fire in Azula’s breath against her skin.

            “Oh, is _that_ what this is about? The great _Lady Arinori Mai_ betrays her friend and signs her own gods-damn _death warrant,_ all over a stupid crush on a stupid _boy?!_ You’ve thrown your life away for my gods-damn _brother,_ the idiot who ran off and married some stupid fucking Water Tribe barbarian _whore?!_ And why,” she continued, twisting her face into something she probably intended to be mockery, “because you, what, _love him more than you fear me?”_

Mai narrowed her eyes, and when she spoke, the smile was gone.

            Only the steel remained.

            “Of course not, you fucking _bitch._ ” Azula flinched, reared back, eyes wide, and Mai had no difficulty believing that the girl was completely and utterly surprised, which made sense, _she’s never heard me swear before_. “I did what I did because it _wasn’t_ betrayal. You’re not my friend, you’re my warden, who’s threatened me with death every day of my life, unless I do what you say, so no, it wasn’t any of that.”

            Azula turned away, crossed her arms, hugged herself tight.

            “So what…this isn’t about some stupid besotted _crush?”_

Mai scoffed, and took great pleasure in the horrified shock on Azula’s face.

            “Maybe a little, because, yes, I did love Zuko. It was an arranged marriage, neither of us had a say, but he was always kind and polite and I was a teenage girl who’d only known coldness and _propriety_ and I swooned. But, at the end of the day, I loved Zuko like the sun loves the moon, something you long for, but deep down inside, you know you should never have. No, this isn’t about Zuko; it’s about the Fire Nation. Katara and her child are the future, and you and your horrid father are little more than the grotesque past.”

            She paused, and the smile came back, and she drove her point home, because if she knew one thing about life, it was that one should never condemn oneself by half-measures.

            “At the end of the day, _Your Royal Highness,_ I love my _people_ far more than I _ever_ feared **_you_** _.”_

Azula didn’t do anything for a long time, so long that Mai began to wonder if the girl had finally broken, if her mind had finally shattered beyond reclamation. But then, like a flash, she was moving, striding to the doors with jerky steps, kicking the doors open, demanding that someone bring her a sword. The sword was brought, and Mai felt it poised above her, for all that she didn’t bother to look.

            “So,” Azula said, and Mai could feel the sneer, taste it, _smell it,_ “Ms. _Suddenly Poetic,_ if you were the sun to Zuko’s moon, then what does that make him and his little barbarian slut?”

            Mai shrugged, and closed her eyes.

            “Don’t ask me, I never did have much patience for poetry. Ty Lee was always the smart one, though when next you see her, ask quick; I honestly wouldn’t bet money on you surviving the encounter.”

            That did it. Azula screamed and screamed and then the sword was coming, Mai felt it come, and she stretched out her neck and began to pray, begging forgiveness of the gods for making her last words a lie.

            Not the bit about Azula’s lack of a chance against Ty Lee, when the day came for Ty Lee to present her final bill to the Princess, oh no; that was nothing but the truth. No, it was the bit about Zuko and Katara, because Mai knew _exactly_ what they were.

            They were the earth and the sea, forever together, never apart, so close that one could not exist without the other, and it was often hard to tell where one began and the other ended, or if either began or ended at all.

            And, as the sword came down, her last thought was a prayer of thanks, for being given the opportunity to see and feel what that was like, through Katara’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, that happened. I do think, before we continue, that we all need to stand and give a round of applause, because let's face it, that was pretty badass on Mai's part. *claps*
> 
> As usual, I refer you to my profile on FF.net (under kangaroo2010) for a more comprehensive AN, which is also the place where you can read the fic that this is a follow-up to, that being "Wild, Wild Love." You don't HAVE to read it to get what happened up there, but it's a story full of laughter, love, fluffy goodness, some really kickass lines, a generous helping of heartbreak, and it's just (for the most part) good, clean fun. It's ALSO full of typos, and the plot got away from me a good half-dozen times, so it's not the BEST piece of work I've ever created, but it's worth a skim nonetheless.
> 
> You can, of course, also find me on Tumblr at kangaroo2010, and follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, a mysterious character from "Romance of the Four Nations" (a three-part epic that you can find on my FF.net profile, and which you don't HAVE to read, but totally should, because it's AWESOME) appears, and we have a little bit of fun for a change. Stay tuned!


	10. Reincarnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had had many faces and many names, had many tasks and lived many lives, but no matter where he went or who he was, he always looked for them. 
> 
> A cameo appearance by a man ostensibly known as Kojima, from my favorite fic, Romance of the Four Nations (which can be found here), because who wouldn't want that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic includes a cameo appearance by a man ostensibly known as "Kojima," from my favorite fic, "Romance of the Four Nations" (which can be found on my FF.net profile under my SN, kangaroo2010), because who wouldn't want that?

**Reincarnation**

(Kojima strikes again)

HE HAD LONG SINCE STOPPED THINKING ABOUT WHY HIS EXISTENCE WAS THE WAY IT WAS. All he knew was that he never really _died._ Sure, his current life would _end,_ but then he would open his eyes in a new body in a new world, until the day came when powers that he still did not fully understand ( _and didn’t even bother to anymore_ ) _truly_ opened his eyes, and he would be given his mission and he would go forth and march towards his destiny. Maybe it was a punishment, this endless cycle of death and re-birth and awakening, or maybe it was a blessing, a boon, a mark of the special favor of the gods, or spirits, or _what-have-you,_ it didn’t really matter, did it? Maybe it was none of those things, or all of those things, but even that wasn’t all that important in the end.

            What mattered, really, was the mission. Sometimes he would succeed, sometimes he would fail, sometimes he would manage to do both, others to do neither. Sometimes he would end wars, other times he would start them. He would launch revolutions and palace coups, manipulate entire nations to his mission, but then he would die and be re-born and awakened and he would find that his only mission was keep one single, solitary person alive, and he would live out his days on a farm or a ranch or in a tiny ramshackle apartment never really knowing why that person was so important, and never really caring, either. Sometimes he loved his mission, sometimes he hated it, sometimes he just endured it, but there was always the birth, the awakening, the death, and, of course, _the mission._

His body, like the mission, changed, too. Sometimes he was tall and lean, other times short and fat. Once he had been blind, another time deaf, one time more both, and a few times he had even been a woman, which was always interesting. The worlds he woke up in changed, too, the worlds and the times and the technology. In one life, he would be scraping out shallow ditches in dusty fields with only rudimentary tools he had to make himself, and in others he would be sailing across the stars, a rocket strapped to his back.

            _And the things he saw, and the people…_

He saw worlds born and worlds die. He saw people at their worst and at their best and at every point in between. He saw horror and bloodshed and love and courage, life created and life destroyed. He stumbled into a strange man in a blue box, several, actually, though he had a sneaking suspicion that they were all the same. He met kings and peasants, saints and sinners, givers and takers, lovers and haters. He spoke a thousand-thousand languages, so many he couldn’t even _begin_ to keep track of them all.

            In short, his existence was always changing, always different, always unpredictable…

            _Except for them…_

*** * * * ***

            He liked them the moment he laid eyes on them. He met them first as aimless nomads, a man and a woman and their children and the lives they had built together. The mission had nothing to do with them, but he stayed with them all the same, stayed with them and protected them, why, he wasn’t entirely sure, maybe because it was the one thing in his existence that was entirely his choice, that he could accomplish by his own will.

            After that, he always looked for them, always sought them out. Sometimes, he didn’t find them, others, he found one, but not the other, and other times still, the fates defied him and he could not bring them together, or, worse, the mission intervened and he was obliged to tear them apart. Most of the time, they got themselves together, when life and destiny allowed it, or even when life and destiny didn’t, they often defied the powers that seek to control human existence, that was one of the constants, their stubbornness and their pride and their need to be together, come what may.

            He liked the constants, because if keeping track of his own changes was irritating enough, keeping on top of theirs was a genuine headache. Generally the boy was the boy and the girl was the girl, but not always, sometimes it was switched, or they were both one, or both the other, once one of them was both in and of themselves, which set the man beyond time and place to scratching his head on how to make it work, but then the one who was generally a boy found out and decided he loved the one who was generally a girl anyways, and the man beyond time and place patted himself on the back and strolled off whistling a happy tune.

            There other changes, too. In one place, they would be royalty, in another slaves, in yet another criminals carving out a life among the dregs of society. He met them as soldiers and warriors, monks and nuns, believers and atheists, fruitful and barren, angels and demons. Sometimes they had magical powers, or could bend the elements to their will ( _he always liked that particular world best, he didn’t know why, it was just a personal preference_ ), or could do none of that. Once, he had met the mostly-a-girl in a tiny little village in a place called Manchuria in a year called nineteen-forty-one, and then he bumped into the mostly-a-boy in a place called Japan in a city called Osaka a few years later, and he scratched his head and had no idea how to bring them together, was about to give up, but then he was chasing the mostly-a-boy on horseback and shot the mostly-a-boy’s horse out from under him and when he found them five years later, necking in a squalid bar in a place called Angola, he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself.

            But no matter what, he always looked for them, and if they hadn’t managed to be drawn together on their own accord, he always did his best to put them in each other’s way and let their hearts finish the job.

*** * * * ***

            He was in a place called Republic City, in his favorite world, though in a different timeline from any other. This confused him, but he eventually got a handle on it, and he pursued his mission ( _which, this time, was to **prevent** a war, which pleased him enormously_), until the day he saw the mostly-a-boy and managed to get his name. _Tazaki Zuko, patrolman in the Republic City Police Department._ The man liked that, liked it very much. A uniform had always suited the mostly-a-boy-now-called-Zuko ( _as he so often was, though it wasn’t a guarantee_ ), and the role of a policeman suited the boy even more. Now that the boy had been found, half the man’s job was already done, but, try as he might, he couldn’t seem to find the girl.

            Until the day he got shot, that is.

            It wasn’t a mortal wound ( _for which he was **very** grateful, he still had a lot of work to do in this particular life_), but it was serious enough to require a visit to a hospital. He chose the hospital at random, stumbling in with a blood-soaked rag pressed to his wound, and the nurses and doctors went to work and stitched him up and he was sitting in his hospital room, wondering when would be a good time to duck out, when the mostly-a-girl walked right in, and it was very hard not to burst out laughing.

            She was a doctor this time, and her name was Katara, both things that had happened before. She was calm, cool, professional, but her smile lit up the room and for a time, the man beyond time and place just reveled in his triumph. When she asked him if he wished to make a police report, he leaped at the opening, said he did, asked her to contact the RCPD, enquire after one _Tazaki Zuko, I’ve met him before, I know I can trust him,_ and one _Dr. Katara_ agreed and promised that she would and he was already planning his escape, it would have to be very neat, when she pointed out he had declined to give a name to the intake nurse in the ER and asked if he had one to give to the RCPD when she put in her request and he smiled and gave her the first name that leapt to mind.

            “Kojima,” he said, smiling from ear-to-ear, “go ahead and put down Kojima.”

            She frowned, brow furrowed as she wrote it down. “Alright, Mr. Kojima, I’ll go ahead and…” She paused, looked at him, looked away, looked back. “Um, excuse me, but…have we met before? I’m just getting the weirdest sensation…”

            He chuckled and shrugged and pointed out that it was a big city and a small world, _anything was possible,_ and she laughed and admitted that this was true, and then _Dr. Katara_ went off and called for _Officer Tazaki Zuko_ and it turned out the boy was on duty and in the area and, though he was probably confused, was on his way to take the statement. The man who was once again calling himself Kojima waited until the girl called Katara and the boy called Zuko were giggling and smiling at each other as they walked down the hall towards the man’s room, and the man smiled and chuckled to himself and slipped away before they got there, content in the knowledge that he had achieved his little victory against the powers that threw him hither-and-yon, he could continue with the mission now, _all was well._

*** * * * ***

            For the rest of their current lives, Zuko and Katara would often wonder about the man who had called himself _Kojima,_ though, as always, whether they remembered or not, they never quite managed to get any answers.

            It never bothered them, though. They had each other, and two beautiful daughters, and a nice life in a nice city, and were able to bask in the warm glow of being exactly where they needed to be, with who they needed to be with, of being _soulmates._

The man who occasionally called himself Kojima would’ve been proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was just good, clean fun, you guys, like, for realz. The past couple days have involved a lot of feels and a lot of gut-punches and various things of that nature, for, for the next few prompts, I felt a need to enjoy myself and, by extension, allow you guys to enjoy yourselves, too, especially those of you who were kind enough to read "Romance of the Four Nations" all the way through, because I feel like you will enjoy this little piece the most.
> 
> If you haven't read what I like to call Ro4N, by all means, please do, it's one of the few pieces of mine that I feel confident in calling fucking awesome-sauce, and I feel like it's definitely worth the read. That said, you really don't need to have read it to enjoy the little piece you just read, so feel free to ignore my shameless begging for page-views and fanart. *looks cute in hope anyways*
> 
> As is traditional, you can find a slightly more comprehensive AN over on FF.net (which I directed you to up above), as well as scope me on Tumblr under kangaroo2010 and follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013. In tomorrow's episode, the fun continues, as we pop back into the future of A Different Path's universe as the Steam!Baby Crown Prince discovers a really cool little story, and we get to see Katara being all Fire Lady-y. Stay tuned!


	11. Parallel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His Highness the Crown Prince Kuzon may not have known if the story was true or not, but that wasn't important, because he knew that his parents would like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story can be read as a "years later" sequel to "A Different Path" (which, as previously mentioned, be found on my FF profile under kangaroo2010), but it doesn't have to be. It's pretty standalone, really.
> 
> Also, shockingly enough, I continue my run of stories that don't need warnings about adult language and adult themes. Who knew?

**Parallel**

[KUZON, KNOWN TO STRANGERS AS _HIS MOST AUGUST ROYAL HIGHNESS THE CROWN PRINCE KUZON,_ BUT TO FRIENDS AND FAMILY AS JUST _KUZON,_ BURSTS INTO HIS PARENTS’ OFFICE, CLUTCHING AN OLD SCROLL TO HIS CHEST, TREMBLING WITH ALL THE EXCITEMENT THAT AN ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD IS CAPABLE OF. He finds his mother – otherwise known as _Her Most Serene Majesty the Fire Lady Katara_ – right where he expects to find her, hard at work, scribbling something on a piece of paper, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. His eyes shift to the desk that sits back-to-back with his mother’s, and frowns.]

            “Um…Mom?”

            [Katara does not look up from her task, but she does smile, and her voice is soft and welcoming.]

            “Yes, Kuzon?”

            “Um…where’s Dad?”

            “You know very well where your father is, Kuzon. What time of year is it?”

            [Kuzon visibly deflates. He had completely forgotten that it was the dreaded _Budget Season,_ when the business of government ground to a halt and his father – known to the world as _His Most August Majesty, Father of the Nation, Defender of the Faith, the Fire Lord Zuko,_ a title that, oddly enough, was about three-times as long when he took the throne– was forever stuck in joint sessions of the Diet and endless meetings of the Privy Council, trying to hammer out the budget for the next year. Kuzon hated _Budget Season,_ not least because he knew that, someday, _he_ would be the one stuck in those meetings.]

            “Oh…right…”

            [Katara finishes whatever she’s working on, gives it an once-over, nods, turns to where one of her ladies-in-waiting, Kuzon can’t remember the young woman’s name, sits in a corner, reading a book.]

            “Yumiko?”

            [The young woman promptly closes her book, stands, bows.]

            “Yes, Your Majesty?”

            [Katara folds up the paper, slides it into an envelope, seals it, holds it out.]

            “Please be so kind as to deliver this, personally, to Her Grace the Duchess Akiyama.”

            [The young woman takes what has been revealed as a letter, bows once more, while Kuzon scrunches up his face and recalls – from the list of nobility that he is required to have memorized – that Her Grace the Duchess Akiyama is the wife of His Grace the Duke Akiyama ( _currently the leader of the Liberal Party in the House of Peers and a close ally of Kuzon’s father_ ) and has just had a baby.]

            “At once, Your Majesty. Shall I send the Lady Ming” [another of his mother’s ladies-in-waiting, from the Earth Kingdom, if Kuzon remembers correctly] “to attend you?”

            “That would be perfect, thank you. And please extend to the Duchess Our congratulations, and ask if there is anything We can do for her and her family.”

            “Of course, Your Majesty.”

            [There is another bow, and then the Lady Yumiko is gone and Katara turns to her son and smiles, holding out her arms.]

            “Well, are you just going to stand there, silly, or are you going to give your mother a hug and a kiss?”

            [Kuzon isn’t entirely sure he wants to do either. He’s _eleven,_ after all, a self-proclaimed _big boy,_ not a kid at all anymore, but he does love his mother, so he huffs and gives her the requested _hug and kiss_ , after which he steps back, still clutching the scroll to his chest.]

            “What have you got there?”

            “Um…well…I was hoping to tell Dad, too, you know, at the same time…”

            “Hmm…well, why don’t you tell me first, and then, you and I can put our heads together and see if we can bust your father out of his current meeting for a little bit. How does that sound?”

            [Kuzon thinks it sounds _amazing,_ but he’s a _big boy_ and the Crown Prince to boot, and _much_ more mature than _any_ of his younger siblings, _especially_ his next youngest sibling, his brother Hakoda, with whom he’s not on the best of terms at the moment, _which is his fault, really,_ so he draws himself up tall, just as his father has taught him, and does his best to look _regal,_ just like his parents, completely missing the fact that his mother has to act quickly to cover up a most un-regal giggle.]

            “I like the sound of that very much, Mother.”

            “Oh, how serious! And how very _royal!_ You will have to do that for your father; he will be _very_ impressed.”

            “Oh…you really think so?”

            “When is your father _not_ impressed by you, Kuzon?”

            “…well…um…there was when I got in the fight with Cousin Irniq…”

            “True…though, between you, me, and the moose-lion, your father was more annoyed that you _lost_ than that you got in the fight at all.”

            “ _Really?!”_

“ _Really._ Your Uncle Sokka crowed about it for a week. Now, enough stalling! Show me what you’ve found!”

            “Well…um…I didn’t actually…you know… _find it…_ Kei found it, we were poking around the Library, Hakoda swore that there was once a Fire Lord who was a waterbender, and I told him that was silly, he was just saying that because _he’s_ a waterbender, and it _was_ silly, and he dared me to prove it, so me and Kei we went to the Library and we were very polite to Midorikawa-san, he likes us and lets us wander around, and Kei and I start looking and well, he found this and we read it and I just had to show it to you.”

            [Katara nods, looking very serious.]

            “I see. Is it proof of this waterbending Fire Lord?”

            “Oh, no, Mother, we couldn’t find anything about that, though maybe we didn’t look long enough, I bet Dad could find it, he can find anything, but Midorikawa-san says that he’s never heard of a waterbending Fire Lord, there were a few earthbending ones a long time ago but no waterbending ones as far as he knows, and Midorikawa-san knows everything about History, he would know if there was one, but…um… _yeah,_ here it is.”

            [He holds to the scroll out to his mother, who takes it, puts her reading glasses back on, and starts examining the scroll.]

            “Hmm…very interesting, Kuzon. You had no trouble reading it?”

            “Well… _a little,_ I don’t like that old court language, it makes my head hurt.”

            “You know, your father would agree with you.”

            “He would?”

            “Absolutely; it’s why one of his first acts as Fire Lord was to officially end the use of the old court language in official documents.”

            “Oh, right…I remember that now. Then why do I have to learn it?”

            “You know why, Kuzon.”

            “Oh, right. _Because I’m to be the Fire Lord and so I need to be able to read old documents without difficulty._ I still don’t like it.”

            “As well you shouldn’t. Now, what am I looking at?”

            “Oh!” [Kuzon springs forward, propping himself up on his mother’s desk, pointing at this and that as he tells his mother what he found.] “It’s a story about a long-ago prince! Apparently, there was a tyrant who had taken the throne in the Northern Water Tribes, and this tyrant waited until the Avatar had died, and before the new Avatar could grow up, launched a terrible war. It went on for at least ten years, and there were horrible battles, until the Southern Water Tribes, they were being ruled from the North then, tried to break away, and the tyrant king punished them brutally, and no one could stop him, because the Fire Nation was weak and the Earth Kingdom was weak, too, and the Air Nomads weren’t nomads yet, they were still ruled by petty kings and most them were on the side of the tyrant and it was awful.”

            “I can see that…go on…”

            “Well, anyways, when the tyrant put down the Southern rebellion, there was a chief’s son who was taken prisoner, and when that son’s father refused to come to terms, the Northern tyrant scarred the son horribly, and set the son adrift to die. By the will of the gods, he came to rest in the Fire Nation, which wasn’t really the Fire Nation then, it was during one of the periods of civil war, and this chief’s son landed in an area controlled by a very powerful _daimyo,_ who wanted to stay out of the war, but his daughter who was apparently very beautiful and a very skilled firebender found the chief’s son on the shore and nursed him and fell in love with him.”

            “My, how romantic! This is a story after my own heart! Remind me to have a copy of this made, your sisters would love it.”

            [Kuzon tries not to make a face. His sisters, Ursa and Kya, may be only six, but they are still girls and thus _gross._ Plus, they are his sisters, so they are _double gross,_ not like Reiko at school, who isn’t gross at all, Kuzon doesn’t care _what_ Hakoda thinks.]

            “Oh, okay…”

            “Oh, don’t make a _face._ Go on, tell me how the story ends. Is there a happy ending?”

            “Yes, there is! So, eventually, the _daimyo’s_ daughter nurses the chief’s son back to health, and the chief’s son falls in love with her, too, and they want to get married, but the chief’s son has to go home and fight to end the Northern king’s tyranny, so he tries to sneak away, so he won’t break the girl’s heart.”

            [Now it’s Katara’s turn to make a face. She huffs, cross her arms, and shakes her head.]

            “ _Men._ I swear, they’re all the same.”

            “…even Dad?”

            [Katara laughs and ruffles her son’s hair.]

            “Yes, even your father, though his idiocy is part of the reason I love him so much. Now, go on! Don’t keep me in suspense! Did the _daimyo’s_ daughter let him get away with that?”

            “No! She caught him and told him that she was coming with him, but first he had to take her to the nearest temple and marry her, and he knew he was beaten, and he hadn’t wanted to go without her anyways, so they went right away and got married by a nice fire sage, and then they ran away. They returned to his homeland, and raised the Southern Water Tribes in rebellion again, only this time, the girl’s father decided he couldn’t just abandon his daughter, so he raised his armies and all the armies of his allies and even those of his enemies, and the Earth Kingdom joined in, too, and the Air Nomads who still weren’t nomads decided to abandon the Northern tyrant and so he was defeated and toppled from his throne, and the chief’s son and the _daimyo’s_ daughter were offered the Northern crown by the people there, and so they took the throne and ruled together for a long time, and had many children, and this was the Northern king who gave the Southern Water Tribes their independence, and you know what their names were?”

            “The chief’s son and the _daimyo’s_ daughter?”

            [For a moment, Kuzon pauses, suspecting that his mother – who can read just as well as he can, if not better – is just playing along, but he decides he doesn’t care and spreads his arms wide and makes the big reveal.]

            “The chief’s son was named _Katar,_ and the _daimyo’s_ daughter was named _Zuka!”_

[Katara’s mouth drops open.]

            “No.”

            “Yes!”

            “You’re kidding!”

            “I’m so not! And it might even be true, because apparently, in the Northern Water Tribe Royal Family, every once in a while a firebender will be born, and this might be the reason why, or at least that’s what Midorikawa-san says!”

            “Well then, that settles it, doesn’t it?”

            “Um…settles what, Mom?”

            [Katara stands, sets her reading glasses on her desk. She rolls up the scroll, hands it to her son, lays a hand on his shoulder.]

            “Your father will _absolutely_ want to hear this story right away, budget meetings be…ahem… _nevermind._ Your father will be delighted to hear all about this. Ready to go interrupt a government meeting?”

            [As they head for the door, Kuzon tries not to look giddy. After all, they are about to interrupt actual _government business,_ which they’re not supposed to do, him or his siblings, especially because most of the time Mother and Father are in the same meetings together, and interrupting Father is bad enough, interrupting _Mother_ is downright _suicidal,_ but Mother’s on his side for this one and so he smiles wide and tries not to look too _little kid-like_ in his excitement, because he _is_ the Crown Prince, after all, and, even more important, _a big boy._ ]

            “Absolutely, Mom!”

            “Well, then what’re we waiting for!”

            [Father is just as thrilled by the story as Mother assured him he would be. So thrilled is Father that the Fire Lord derails a Privy Council meeting to have Kuzon read the story to the assembly, and the applause is something that Kuzon will never forget, as much as his little brother, Hakoda, will end up wishing he would.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, two stories in a row in which no one dies, there are no emotional gut-punches, everyone's have a good time and is happy and shit...I must be losing my touch. Either that, or I had more fun and games story ideas for this month than I did...um...not fun and games. Um...yeah...
> 
> Anyhoo, this, I think, is another story that pretty much stands on its own and explains itself pretty well. Like I said up above, it can be read as a follow-up on my first fic, A Different Path, because I'll get my page views and (maybe, someday, fingers crossed) fanart if it kills me. However, like I also said, it can be read completely on its own, and if you don't feel like hacking your way through my fun - albeit, typo-ridden - first fic, you totally don't have to. The only thing that MIGHT need a bit of explaining (assuming you're into that sort of thing) would be the post-war set-up of the Fire Nation's government. If you DO happen to be the same kind of complete and utter dork as I am, and, thus, are interested, feel free to scope the comprehensive AN over on FF.net (under the same SN as here). You can also give me likes on Tumblr under kangaroo2010, as well as follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013, where I am MORE than happy to answer any and all questions.
> 
> That, I think, is more than enough! Haha! Like I said, that was just some good, clean fun, and I hope we all enjoyed ourselves. Tune in for tomorrow's episode, wherein, as Katara prepares herself for her coronation, Zuko finds himself in the odd position of counseling patience. See you then!


	12. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko would never quite forget the day when he ended up being the one counseling patience to someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a standalone story, but can be read as a follow-up to "A Different Path" (which can, as previously mentioned be found on my FF.net profile under kangaroo2010) if one is so inclined. Also, some mild adult language sprinkled throughout.

**Patience**

**_“ZUKO!!!”_ **

“ _Gods!_ By the…you scared the living hell out of me, Katara!”

            “Well, that will teach you to pay better attention to your surroundings.”

            “What are you, my uncle?”

            “ _No,_ I’m your _wife,_ which I should think puts me _far_ above your _Prime Minister._ ”

            “True…though, technically, we’re only married by Water Tribe law. Here in the Fire Nation-“

            _“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about!”_

“Oh…I see…”

            “Oh, _you see,_ do you? You fucking _see?!_ Well, let me tell you what _I_ see.” [Katara slams a very thick, _very_ heavy book onto Zuko’s side of their back-to-back desks.]

            “Oh boy…is that what I think it is?”

            “ _You’re damn right it’s what you think it is._ Apparently, this is the latest edition of the list of the noble families of the Fire Nation, with all of their lineages and who’s married to whom and related to whom and has an ancient feud with whom and so on and so forth… _volume fucking **ONE.**_ ”

            “Yeah…I remember having to study this thing…what’s the problem?”

            “ _The problem?!_ Do you even _know_ how many nobles there are in this gods-forsaken country?”

            “Quite a few, actually.”

            “ _No. **Shit.**_ How in the hell did you guys get so many?”

            “Well, that’s actually an interesting story. You see-“

            “Oh, I know, I fucking _know. Tokugawa Meiji, founder of the Tokugawa dynasty, in an effort to end the constant cycle of civil wars that have plagued the Fire Nation since its very beginning, instituted a hereditary peerage called the **kazoku.** Major daimyo who surrendered to him without a fight were made Dukes, major daimyo who surrendered after a brief fight were made Marquises, mid-level daimyo were made Counts, minor daimyo and the like were made Viscounts, and the vast body of samurai who served as warriors to these warlords were ennobled and made into Barons, and all of them were integrated into the fabric of the new society, as administrators, governors, officers in the military..._that about cover it?”

            “That…that’s a pretty good summary, actually, though you can’t forget the worthy commoners or wealthy businessmen who occasionally managed to earn or buy their way up to Baron status as well.”

            “Oh, _gods,_ wouldn’t want to forget _them._ ”

            “I agree.”

            “ _Ugh!_ You’re _infuriating!_ And I haven’t even _started_ on the notable commoners, military commanders, village headsmen, city and town mayors, wealthy merchants, university presidents, the necessity that I know all of their wives and the number, gender, and order of their children…and, _gods,_ were you aware of the degree to which all of you nobles are _related to each other?_ I mean, for the love of La, you and Mai are _third freaking cousins!”_

“Actually, that’s just on my father’s side. On my mother’s side, we’re second cousins, which is why the betrothal negotiations took so long back before my exile rendered it all moot; we had to get a special dispensation from the Lord High Fire Sage.”

            “That’s… _what?!”_

“Aren’t you the one who once made a crack about how, it’s not a matter of figuring out who among the Yuupik Tribe you’re blood related to, but who you’re _not_ blood related to?”

            “Whatever. Point is, this is all _insane._ How did you learn all of this?!”

            “Through long hours of study and quite a bit of trial and error…oh, and a lot of smacks with a bamboo stick. Can’t forget about those.”

            “…seriously?”

            “Um…yeah?”

            “Is that normal?”

            “…I’m feeling that the correct answer here would be _no._ ”

            “ ** _You’re gods-damn RIGHT the correct answer should be NO._** You think I’m going to allow our _children_ to be smacked with a freaking bamboo _stick?!_ That’s _barbaric!”_

“In the Water Tribes, maybe.”

            “Whatever. And look at this!” [Another thick book slams down, this one looking more like a ledger.]

            “Um…what’s this?”

            “ _That,_ my dear, is the list of the charities, organizations, foundations, _what-have-you,_ that are traditionally overseen by the Fire Lady, _which I’m about to become,_ along with all of their assets, mission statements, boards of directors…”

            “Those are still running? I thought my father dissolved them all…”

            “Of course not, because that might actually have made _sense._ No, he just let them _rot,_ and guess who gets to spend the rest of her gods-damn _life_ fixing the mess he left?”

            “Um…well…uh…you see…”

            **_“ME._** I mean…for the love of…and I’m not even getting into the books of the Royal Household. You know I’m supposed to be in charge of _those,_ too?”

            “Well, that’s more of a supervisory role, really…”

            “…you know me, right?”

            “I do, which is why I’m trying to tell you to be _patient_ with all of this.”

            “…did you, _Zuko,_ the guy whose plan when he came after Aang on Kyoshi Island was, and I’m quoting Uncle here, _I’ll cross that bridge when I get there,_ just counsel _patience?”_

“Hey now, Uncle’s exaggerating, I’d thought things through a bit more than _that._ ”

            “Really? How so?”

            “…look, that’s not the point. Hell, if anything, it just proves that I know what I’m talking about here. It’s going to take _time_ get a handle on these things, Katara. I mean, remember right after the War ended, when you were still just the _Fire Mistress,_ how long it took you get a handle on social protocol?”

            “It didn’t take _that_ long…I mean, _sure,_ the whole _bowing thing_ took a bit of getting used to, I never would’ve guessed it was so complicated, but it’s second-nature now.”

            “ _Exactly._ I was born to this; this is pretty much my whole life, and guess what? Even _I_ don’t have all this shit memorized. That’s why you’ve got to have advisors and assistants and secretaries and wet nurses and-“

            “ _Stop right there._ Do you really think I’m going to let some other woman nurse my own _children?!_ ”

            “…so, what, you’re just going to nurse right in the middle of council meetings?”

            “Why not?”

            “Because that’s just…and look, _I know,_ things are different in the South, but here? That’s considered very private. Even other women would find it rude and uncomfortable.”

            “…oh…really?”

            “Yes, and I know, it’s stupid and arbitrary and nothing to be ashamed of but every society has its random hang-ups and it’s like Uncle keeps telling me, _Ba Sing Se wasn’t built in a day,_ so let’s move on. Just…listen, you want to know the cheat for the noble thing? Or anything, really?”

            “…I know that, when I started this _preparing to be Fire Lady_ thing in earnest, I was very adamant about not cutting any corners…but I’ve decided that I was a bit too hasty on that front.”

            [A brief pause, during which Zuko finally sees a chance to be the one to say, _I told you so,_ and Katara crosses her arms and silently dares him to try.]

            “So…yes?”

            “Yes.”

            “Okay…this is why you have ladies-in-waiting, right? You yourself memorize all the Dukes and their clans, and then you give the list of everyone else to your ladies-in-waiting. They divide it up amongst themselves, and then, say, at a social function-“

            “Which I’m officially in charge of, since I’m going to be the Fire Lady, and, thus, the hostess of such things, and did you know how hard it is to throw a royal party?”

            “Yes; marshaling an army is easier. But, _anyways,_ a couple of ladies-in-waiting stand at your shoulder, and, in the guise of telling you something funny or interesting, whisper the relevant information pertaining regarding whoever is coming up to you.”

            “…I can do that?”

            “Yeah. Why do you think I always have one of my pages standing by my shoulder?”

            “…and no one will get all uptight about that?”

            “ _Everyone_ does things that way, Katara. I mean, _everyone.”_

“…I suppose I’ll have to finally let Iroh have his way and choose more than two ladies-in-waiting for me…”

            “Well, as Fire Lady, you’re expected to have no less than about a dozen, and you have to pick them.”

            “…I can handle that, actually. Do they have to be Fire Nation?”

            “No. Hell, random nobles and visiting dignitaries will practically _shove_ their daughters at you, once the word’s out that you’re looking. See? Isn’t this all starting to look a bit easier?”

            “You know what…it is, actually. I mean, what you’re saying is, _don’t freak, be patient, don’t rush, relax, it’s not as bad as it seems?”_

“…that sounds much better than how I would’ve put it, so, yes, we’ll go with that.”

            “You’re adorable. I love you.”

            “I love you, too.”

            “Oh, and while I’m here, I’ve decided that education and healthcare shall be my two personal pet projects as Fire Lady.”

            “…most Fire Ladies only pick one pet project.”

            “…do I look like _most Fire Ladies_ to you?”

            “...how about we just forget I ever said that?”

            “You wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said up above, this story can very much stand on its own, but can also be read as another sequel of sorts for A Different Path, if one is so inclined. It also very much speaks for itself; not a huge amount of explanation required, beyond a few historical notes, such as the fact that I draw the Fire Nation peerage from the old Japanese peerage, which was, indeed, called the kazoku, because I'm kind of in love with making things harder for myself (I identify with Zuko for a reason...well, many, but that's definitely a big one). Also, anyone who's ever done any kind of reading or even mild research on aristocracies knows that the bit about everyone being related to everyone else is very much true; if anything, I simplified things up there. To be honest, Zuko and Mai were probably even more closely related than that, considering her family's high place in society.
> 
> If - for reasons I can't even imagine - you would like to listen to some more of my History Major Bitching, you are more than free to pop over to FF.net, look up this story under kangaroo2010, and scope that shit. You can also find me on Tumblr under the same SN, and follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, we have a bit of a crossover involving a madman in a little blue box, and we continue to have some good, clean fun. Stay tuned!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara needs to settle a bet regarding one of her favorite shows from her youth, and the Doctor, as ever, is more than happy to indulge her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A crossover with Doctor Who, starring Peter Capaldi's Doctor and the lovely Clara. In keeping with the show's vaguely family friendly feel, today's episode is free of adult language.

**Mythology**

THE DOCTOR WAS BORED. Just, absolutely, mind-numbingly _bored._ Just… _bored._

_**Bored.**_

So, it should come as no surprise that, when the TARDIS’s inner phone rang, he all but sprinted across the room to answer it, not even bothering to catch his breath before growling, in the Scottish burr that he had to admit he was beginning to like, “Speak.”

            There was a fizzle and a burst of static, which told him that this was probably one of the older points of connection, something he had left behind ages and ages ago because some poor soul had given him great big puppy dog eyes and asked, _Oh, but how will we ever reach you if we’re in trouble again,_ and because it was probably back when he was the idiot with the celery on his lapel at the time he’d bent and outfitted something to call him and it didn’t matter because it was something to do _and it better be good_ and-

            “Um…yes…is this the Doctor…? I’m sorry, my grandfather told me that I should use this phone if I was ever in trouble but he never told me the rest of your name, I suppose he forgot, and-“

            “Yes, I’m the Doctor, _just_ the Doctor, your grandfather was probably a lot more clever than you ever gave him credit for. Now, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

            “Right…um…this is going to sound silly, no one believes me, but-“

            “Is your life in danger?”

            “Um…I don’t _think_ so, but-“

            “Is the planet’s safety in danger?”

            “Well…uh…again, I couldn’t be _sure,_ but it is awfully strange  and-“

            “I can do strange, it’s been a slow day. Now, tell me your _exact_ – and I mean _exact_ – location, and then find the most precise watch you possibly can and tell me the date and time, down to the second, or lower, if you can.”

            “…what’s lower than a second?”

            “Not a very bright one, are you?”

            “Pardon?”

            “Don’t worry about it, just answer the questions.”

            “You…you didn’t ask-“

            “Oh for the love of, _just give me the information I asked for.”_

“Alright, alright, no need to get snippy…”

            The information was given, and the Doctor duly wrote it down, then started to wrack his brain for something suitably dramatic and cunning to say, a good one-liner to go down in history, Clara called such quips his _before the commercial break mic drops,_ whatever that meant, but it sounded better when she said it ( _as most things did_ ), but just when he was on the verge of delivering his line, the annoying little man ( _well, he **sounded** little, and a bit on the knuckle-dragger side as well, but he was bored and that was that_) cut in, sounding quite surprised as he said, “Wait…big blue box, right?”

            The Doctor paused, pursed his lips in thought. “That would be me, yes. Why?”

            “Um…you just got here, I think…um…you landed in my rose garden, actually…”

            “I’m sure they were hideous and not at all a loss to anyone.”

            “Uh…right…Grandfather said you were a bit nicer, to be honest…”

            “I’ve flirted with sentimentality from time-to-time. Is someone getting out the box?”

            “Um…yes…do you happen to have grey hair and…um…a rather absurd set of eyebrows?”

            The Doctor heaved a heavy sigh. “Unfortunately, though at least the ears are tolerable this time.”

            “Um…pardon?”

            “Don’t worry about it; you’re about to get you help.”

            “But, wait, Grandfather said that you had a scarf,” which surprised the Doctor, that incarnation of him wasn’t known for leaving his number about, _Sarah Jane probably guilted me into it,_ “and how can I be talking to you while you also walk up the-“

            “Chalk it up to time travel, mate. Enjoy your assistance!”

            “But, wait, the girl doesn’t look the sa-“

            And with that, the Doctor slammed the phone down, tossed the notebook he had written the necessary information in onto the counsel, huffed, and buried his face in his hands, because he wouldn’t bother Clara for some stupid errand that sounded even more boring than what he was dealing with, something more exciting must be coming down the pike, and he would _much_ rather wait for whatever _that_ was than hurry over to ( _quick check of the date_ ) twenty-thousand years from right now and-

            The phone rang again. The Doctor groaned, picked it up, and barked, “Look, why the hell would you be calling me _again_ if I’m standing right next to you?”

            A pause, and he could practically _hear_ the smirk through the line. “You know, I’m pretty sure that, if you were standing right next to me, I would know…unless you’re hiding in the W.C. again…”

            “Look, that was one time and…Clara!”

            “Hello, Doctor! Not busy, are you?”

            “For you? Never! Want to pop over to…um…let me see…”

            “Sure, but first, I need _you_ to take _me_ somewhere.”

            “…why not? It’s not urgent.”

            “You have a time machine. Is anything urgent?”

            “When I want it to be. Where do you need to go?”

            “Well…it’s a bit complicated. How about you get your nice little arse over here and I’ll explain things.”

            “Sure thing, just tell me the date and time and…wait… _little?”_

_“Doctor.”_

*** * * * ***

            Clara barely waited for the TARDIS to finish landing before she unlocked the door and can barreling in, tossing her suitcase and satchel into a random corner before beginning to pace and explain what was on her mind. The Doctor, for his part, just crossed his arms, leaned back against the console, and waited, a smile on his face, already feeling _much_ better about his day.

            “Alright, so, bear with me, remember how you were telling me that, sometimes, stories that we think are fictional actually aren’t, but are some big event that somehow ripples through time and space and filters into our collective consciousness, and that creative types can pick up on these ripples without even realizing it, and you’re following me, right?”

            The Doctor pursed his lips, popped a big white bushy eyebrow, and pondered. “I said all that?”

            Clara waved the question away. “Not nearly as coherently, there was a lot of growling and Scottish burring, and the last you said something similar but it was hard to hear over the flapping of your hands.”

            The Doctor nodded. “Fair enough. Go on.”

            “Okay, so,” and here, Clara stopped in front of the Doctor, looking very serious, “would it be possible for you to find out where a particular idea or fictional story came from? Like, if it was the result of those _ripples through time and space,_ would we be able to figure out if that was the case, and then…um… _follow_ said ripples to their sourse?”

            The Doctor pursed his lips in thought, pondering the question. “I don’t see why not; I’m sure I’ve done it before.”

            Clara’s face lit up. “Fantastic! Now, with that in mind,” she went hunting for her satchel, snatching it from the corner it had landed in and bringing back to the console, whereupon, she dropped it with a _thunk_ that made the Doctor wince before beginning to dig through it. “If I happened to have, say, a DVD of said creative work, would that help?”

            “Short of finding the creator and plugging their brain into the TARDIS console?” The Doctor rolled his head from side-to-side, considering his options. “I suppose a disc will do in a pinch.”

            Clara looked up from her rummaging, one eyebrow popped. “Wait…would finding the creators and plugging their brains into the TARDIS actually be better?”

            The Doctor couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re very serious about this, aren’t you?”

            Clara’s mouth thinned and her jaw set, her expression the very picture of determination. “You can bet your life on it.”

            “I often have,” the Doctor admitted.

            “True! Still…ah ha!” She plucked a DVD box – the thick kind that, from the Doctor had seen over the years, typically held an entirety of something called a _series,_ or a _season_ in America, for reasons that have never been adequately explained to him – and shoved it into the Doctor’s hands. “Have you heard of this show?”

            The Doctor examined the box in his hands. It was garishly colored, depicting a group of what looked like children rocketing towards the viewer, all bearing very serious expressions and hurling around fire and water and things of that nature. It had a definite _geared towards pre-teens_ quality to it, though he was intrigued by the vaguely Asian aesthetic of the work. “ _Avatar the Last Airbender,_ ” he read, frowning at something that pricked at his the edges of his consciousness. _“Airbender…airbender…where I have heard that before…”_

Clara was immediately right up in his face, practically bouncing up and down in a way that reminded the Doctor strongly of an overstimulated puppy. “ _You know it?!”_

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow at her. “Maybe? I know a lot of things.”

            “As you never tire of telling me.”

            “Well, it’s only true.”

            Once more, Clara waved his point aside, as she often did. “Nevermind that. Point is, I was out with some girlfriends last night, and one of them was also a big fan of this show, and we got into a debate about shipping-“

            “ _Shipping?”_

“Trust me, you don’t want to know. Anyways, she was a fan of the Canon pairings, and I’m not, I always thought that Zuko and Katara should’ve ended up together, said that if the show happened in real life, that’s what would happen, and she bet me that that wasn’t true, and I accepted the bet because I totally have a way to prove my point and-“

            The Doctor raised a dissenting finger. “Stop right there. Do you mean to tell me that you’re using your relationship with me to win some drunken bet?”

            Clara stepped back, crossed her arms, and smirked. “You have a problem with that?”

            The Doctor chuckled. “Not at all! I’ve done the same thing myself many times. Just wanted us to be clear. Now, let me pop this in the DVD player-“

            “Wait…you have a DVD player?”

            “Why shouldn’t I? How else am I to watch _Downton Abbey?_ ”

            “ _You_ watch _Downton Abbey?”_

“Why shouldn’t I? You recommended it, and you tend to be right about these sorts of things. My, the things that are in store for the sixth series, just wait until you watch it. I have to admit that I was flabbergasted when-“

            “I swear to God, if you finish that sentence, I’ll make sure you find out just how many regenerations you have left.”

            “Alright then…”

*** * * * ***

            And that was how the Doctor and Clara ended up spending about a week in a very Japanese-esque country called the _Fire Nation,_ on a planet where people manipulated the elements in a way the Doctor found endlessly fascinating, though every time he tried to examine the phenomenon through scientific principles, Clara would snap at him and tell him to _shut it, can’t you allow a little bit of mystery to remain in my life?_ They attended a nice little tea party with two very precocious princesses, had a delightful little adventure involving a truly bizarre beast with the coloring of a panda bear, rode things called _ostrich-horses_ ( _or, at least, Clara rode them; the Doctor spent most of his time clinging onto one of the animals for dear life and wondering just why he was always letting Clara talk him into such ridiculous things_ ), defeated a plot against the throne, met a man called _Zuko_ and a woman called _Katara_ , and, mostly importantly, helped Clara win her bet.

            “So,” the Doctor said, as he strolled back into the TARDIS behind Clara, who was busy dancing around, bursting over with satisfied glee, “I have to ask…how, exactly, are you going to prove to your friend that you won the bet?”

            “Well,” Clara said, spinning her way over to the railing around the console and perching herself atop the bar, swinging her legs back and forth, “I was thinking that we could pop back, kidnap my friend, and bring her here to eat crow.”

            The Doctor, who was about to get the TARDIS up and way, stopped in mid-action, face such a perfect expression of horror that Clara almost fell off her perch, she laughed so hard. “You’re kidding, surely.”

            After she had finally stopped laughing, Clara pointed at the Doctor, smiling from ear-to-ear. “You should see your face!”

            The Doctor rolled his eyes and set to working the controls. “So, you _weren’t_ serious.”

            Clara rolled her head to one side, a thoughtful expression on her face. “If I was, would you go along with it?”

            “Probably; I find it very difficult to tell you no.”

            “Well, that’s sweet of you. Now, what was this adventure you were mentioning to me before we got here?”

            “Oh, right! Probably nothing, but it’s not like you’re in a hurry to get back home.”

            “Am I ever?”

            The Doctor contemplated the question, decided that Clara was right, _mystery is a vital part of existence,_ chuckled, hit a few buttons, threw the big switch, and away they went.

            Naturally, the random man’s vaguely defined problem ended up almost killed them and ending the universe as they knew it, but neither Clara nor the Doctor would’ve had it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun! Like, ridiculously fun! I had entirely too much fun putting that little piece together. I've yet to really dip into other fandoms, but I saw the prompt Mythology, and how can one think of myths and legends without also thinking about the Doctor? I know I can't. The end result being this delightful little jaunt!
> 
> Today, in a break with tradition, there is no long and comprehensive AN to find over on FF.net. The story would not in any way be helped by my rambling on, besides which the wife and I have a bunch of work to do today, so I need to get a move on. That said...if there's a story that I'm going to beg for feedback on, it would be this one. Seriously, tell me how I did in writing the Doctor! I'm both nervous and excited to find out if I pulled it off. As usual, though, you can totally scope this story on FF.net (under kangaroo2010), on Tumblr (under the same SN), and, of course, follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> Also, in honor of one of my oldest fans, there is TOTALLY some Whoffaldi undertones just for you, Lady Kaelyn. *tips hat* I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, we pop up to the Northern Water Tribe's Spirit Oasis, and find out if there was a way for Zuko and Katara's confrontation there to go a bit differently. Stay tuned!


	14. Royalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outside, the wind howled and the battle raged, but in the depths of the Spirit Oasis, Katara decided, just this once, to give Zuko a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mostly stand-alone story, but can be read as a kind of prequel to "A Different Path." Some mild adult language sprinkled throughout.

**Royalty**

SHE HEARD HIM BEFORE SHE SAW HIM. She almost kicked herself, when she realized who it was. Katara had promised to protect Aang, had been very sure of her ability to do so, but, at the end of the day, well…he had been meditating for hours, gone wherever it was he had drifted off to, and nature had a tendency to call when one least wanted it to. So, she had asked Yue where to go, slipped out, and tried to make it back as fast as she could.

            She really did.

            She sighed as she crouched down by the entrance, carefully considering her options. She wasn’t even mad, really. Annoyed? _Definitely._ But mad? She just couldn’t make herself get angry. It was just so…just so… _just so like him._ Of _course_ Zuko would find them. Of _course_ he would happen to appear at the worst possible moment. And of _course_ he would find his way into the Spirit Oasis at the exact moment that Katara had run out to pee.

            Because _of course he fucking would._

This was Zuko, after all. _It was just the way he was._

She shook her head, biting down on a wistful smile. _He’s completely insane. I’d develop a crush on him, if he wasn’t our enemy. I **would,** but I **haven’t.** I don’t care what my brother says._

And that was when she realized he was talking.

            She leaned over, poking her eye around the wall, struggling hard not to make a sound, not to breathe. She was prepared for a lot of things, but she wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her.

            In some ways, nothing had changed. Aang was still in a meditative pose, eyes aglow, dead to the world, just as he had been for _hours._ Yue was still perched on her rock, that same soft, sweet look on her face, the kind of look only someone who genuinely had not a mean bone in their body could ever have, the look that Sokka had fallen in love with, like the dopey dope he was. But there was a new person there. He was dressed all in white, a wool cap pulled low over his head. Strapped across his back was a _katana,_ the _katana_ Katara had seen far too much of in the past six months. But…he wasn’t doing anything. She didn’t know what to do with that, what to think about it. He wasn’t doing a gods-damn thing. He was sitting in the grass, his legs pulled up to his chest, his chin perched atop one of his knees. He was sitting so that his left eye, his dead eye, was the only one that could possibly see Katara. _Which means he can’t see me. I have a chance…_

_Only…_

She settled down, decided to wait. Because Zuko, the Prince who had chased them from one end of the globe to the other, was sitting on the grass, a cigarette burning from between the forefingers of his right hand, and he was just…well… _talking._

Later, she would have given anything, _anything at all,_ to know what he and Yue were talking about, before she came back. It couldn’t have been long, but… _it seemed important._ Something had happened, something very profound.

            Something had changed, sometime in the month since they had last seen him.

            She pushed her chaotic thoughts aside, and listened.

            “So,” Yue was saying, smiling that sweet smile of hers, not even looking frightened, how, Katara would never understand, would always want to know, “I have to ask…what was your plan?”

            Zuko gave a derisive snort, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Honestly? I don’t even know.” It took a moment for Katara to realize they were speaking Inuktitut. She was kind of happy for this. It meant she could listen. “I guess…heh…it seemed like a good idea at the time, you know? Like, I had it all mapped out, or, at least, _I think I did._ But…you’re right. There’s a horrid blizzard going on, the city is overrun with powered-up waterbenders, and let’s not even get into the fact that that same city is under attack by a man who’s already tried to kill me at least twice.”

            “And Katara will be back at any moment,” Yue pointed out.

            Zuko’s shoulders slumped, and even though all Katara could see was his dead eye, the one buried in the scar she had long since stopped thinking was _horrid_ , she couldn’t help but think that it looked…well… _sad._ “Yeah…and I’m cold and hungry and I haven’t slept in days. She’d kick my ass from here to Ba Sing Se and back again, just on general principle.”

            “And yet…” Yue paused, pursed her lips, seemed to roll her words from one side of her mouth to the other. “You still came.”

            Zuko, it seemed, could only sigh. It was the saddest, most resigned sigh that Katara had ever heard. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?”

            “Can I ask…why?”

            Zuko shrugged. “You wouldn’t understand.”

            Yue scootched over, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Try me. You might be surprised.”

            Another shrug, even more dejected this time. For a moment, Katara considered launching her attack. With every passing second, her will to deliver the predicted _ass beating_ was fading, and fading _fast._ All she could think of was how Gran-Gran had put it, the first time Zuko and his ship had swung by their village.

            _That young man…he just needs a really good hug…_

Katara didn’t attack. She couldn’t. She needed to hear this, too.

            It was a long time before Zuko answered, or at least, it seemed that way to Katara. When he did, his voice was low, flat, stripped of all emotion.

            It hurt to hear.

            “Because…in a few months, it will have been four years since I last saw my Homeland, since I last so much as set foot there. Four years…four years of exile, of wandering, of desperately running from everything that happened, all those years ago, seeing it play out over and over again in my head. _Four fucking years…_ pardon my language…”

            Yue just giggled. “It’s alright. I’ve been spending a lot of time around Sokka, so, trust me, I’ve heard worse.”

            Zuko chuckled. “Yeah…still…you know what this is, right there?” He pointed at Aang.

            Yue didn’t even bother to follow the gesture. She focused one eye on Zuko, but the other one bored straight ahead, across his face and into Katara’s eyes. Katara saw, nodded.

            _Alright, Yue, I’ll wait. I’ll trust you._

_I’ll let him have his say._

Zuko didn’t wait for an answer. “That’s my ticket home. I’m not a fool. I’ll never be restored to the succession, never be allowed back into the Palace. My father went through a lot of trouble to get rid of me, and he won’t throw that all away, just because I managed to fulfill the mission no one ever expected me to accomplish, nevermind the fact that, if, in some sort of sick joke, I actually _was_ restored to the succession, I wouldn’t last a month before my sister finished the job my father started. But…but still…”

            Yue’s hand tightened on his shoulder, and her voice was soft and warm and full of compassion. “You just want to go home.”

            Zuko tried to laugh, but it came out more of a sob, a wretched, choked, horrid thing that felt like a slap across Katara’s face. _This is what we feared, this is what we hated._

_A young man, who just wanted to go **home**._

Later, she would decide, that was the moment, right then.

            That was the moment she stopped hating Prince Zuko.

            “Is that too much to ask?” he said, and his voice shook. It was wet, and laced with pain. “I mean…I get it…he’s the Avatar. He’s going to save the world, get the girl, jump from one triumph to the next. He’s the hero in this story; he’s destined to win, while I’m just one of the minor, supporting villains that everyone forgets about as soon as they close the book. He was born lucky, and I was lucky to be born.”

            Yue frowned, and when she spoke, she sounded very much like a mother, so much so that Katara’s heart tightened in her chest. “Who told you that?”

            Zuko smiled, and it was the most pathetic, painful smile Katara had ever seen. _And I can only see half of it, from a distance._ “My father, every day of my life.”

            Yue’s face fell, right along with Katara’s heart. “That’s…that’s _horrid._ ”

            Zuko just nodded. “Yeah…I guess it is. Took me a long time to think that, though. It was just… _just all I knew._ ” He sighed, stubbed the cigarette out in the grass, buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, his muffled words slipping out from between his fingers. “ _I just want to go **home**. I just… **I’m just so fucking tired…**_ ”

            Yue’s hand began to move, rubbing his back. “I won’t pretend I know how you feel, or what you’re going through, but…just so you know, I understand. Life is unfair, to some more than others, and…whatever you do, I won’t stop you.”

            There came another pause. Katara pressed her forehead against the wall, let the coolness of the rock seep into her soul. She listened, and watched, as Yue rubbed Zuko’s back, and Zuko’s body shook as he, very calmly, very quietly, cried like a child.

            And then, in a flash, he was on his feet. He stood, wiping his eye. He stood there, staring long and hard at Aang. His body shook, his hands trembled. Katara reached down, flipped the cap off of her water pouch. She reached down, felt the water, felt it come alive, thrum through her body, through her blood.

            But she didn’t strike. She didn’t really know why. All she could come up with, later, was that she had decided to give him a chance.

            Because he was Zuko, wasn’t he? He had never been cruel. He had fought with honor and integrity. He had just bared his soul to a complete stranger, in a tongue that was foreign to him, far, far away from home.

            He deserved a chance.

            He was turning. He faced Yue, and gave the most perfect, most correct, most careful bow that Katara had ever seen. “I thank you, Your Highness. You’ve…just, thank you.”

            Yue stood, and returned the bow, perfectly polite, perfectly correct. “Don’t mention it, Your Highness.”

            He straightened his back. Katara couldn’t see his face, but judging by the look on Yue’s, the smile he was attempting to give was not pretty. “I…well…thank you for saying that, but…it’s been a long time since I was a prince.”

            Yue just shook her head. “You’re a prince to me, Your Highness.” She bowed her head. “May the gods be with you.”

            He laughed. “And also with you.” He gave one last, longing look at Aang, and then he turned on his heel and began to walk back the way Katara assumed that he had come.

            There was one moment, when he stopped. He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. His good eye was facing Katara now, and she saw it flick towards her, pause, then flick away. Then, without looking back, he said words that Katara would never forget.

            Words that broke her heart.

            “Tell the others, when you see them, that…I’m sorry. I’m so very, very sorry. And…when he comes to, tell him…tell him…” A sigh, and a shake of the head. “Tell him that…I wish him the best, and I hope he does, indeed, save the world, but…if I never see him again, for as long as I live, it’ll have been too soon.”

            Yue just bowed her head. “I will, Your Highness.”

            Zuko chuckled, though it didn’t have much mirth to it. “Yeah…good day to you, Your Highness.”

            “And you.”

            And then he was gone.

            Katara never did get to ask Yue what had happened, before she came back from the bathroom.

            She would always hate herself, just a little bit, for that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last few ANs have, I think, been rather uninformative, but that's the nature of the beast sometimes. Every once in a while, a story has a very simple genesis, and a very simple execution. This, however, is not one of those times, thus, in a return to form, you can pop over to FF.net, look up the SN kangaroo2010, and read a comprehensive AN about the genesis of this story. It's actually pretty interesting for a change. You can, as usual, also find me on Tumblr (kangaroo2010), as well as follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> That's enough for now, I think. I've got chores to do, flirtatious texts to send my wife (who sends you guys all her love, and wants me to let you know that she takes great pleasure in the fact that she knows what all the coming stories are going to contain), scratches to give my dog, and, at some point, dinner to make. In tomorrow's episode, we flash forward to Ba Sing Se, where Zuko admits that he always knew she would find him, and maybe, deep down inside, he really wanted her to. Stay tuned!


	15. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko always knew she'd catch him in the end...or maybe, deep down inside, he just hoped she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A direct sequel to yesterday's prompt, "Royalty." Can also be read as a prequel to "A Different Path," which, as previously stated, can be found on my FF.net profile.

**Caught**

IN MANY WAYS, ZUKO MUSED AS ANOTHER STACK OF DIRTY DISHES WAS UNCEREMONIOUSLY DUMPED ON HIS WORK SPACE, HE HAD COME FULL CIRCLE. During his four years at the Royal Military Academy in Shu Jing, before his exile ended his military career before it even had a chance to begin, he had often washed dishes, volunteered for it, even. Things like chopping vegetables, digging ditches, shining boots, and washing dishes were considered an intrinsic part of the experience at the Academy, a way for the cadets – many scions of the rich, powerful, and well-born clans of Fire Nation nobility – to learn some humility and perspective before they went off to war, and Zuko had felt that volunteering for such onerous duties was a way to prove to his classmates that he intended to earn his way as much as was possible. He had even attended under an assumed name, a thinly veiled fiction that enabled _His Royal Highness the Crown Prince_ to go about his duties and his education without having to constantly deal with bowing and scraping.

            And now, years later, he was washing dishes, once more under an assumed name. Sure, the reasons were different: He washed dishes because the fewer people who saw his distinctive scar, the better, and the assumed name was to keep him alive and away from his father’s agents. Beyond that, though, much remained eerily similar. He was surrounded by young, military-age men, because the Fire Quarter – Ba Sing Se’s ancient Fire Nation district – was overrun with draft dodgers, deserters, and dissidents, and many mirrored his vaguely military-like bearing. He still washed dishes the same, mechanically, silently, without looking anyone in the eye. He still flinched away from anyone who tried to befriend him, still distrusted everyone and everything, still looked over his shoulder, wondering when his father’s authority would finally catch up with him.

            He was even still hiding from something, this something being any knowledge of the fact that the Avatar and his friends were in the city. He had put that all behind him, didn’t want anything to do with it. His hunt for the Avatar had brought him nothing but misery and pain, and even after he’d walked away from the Spirit Oasis, the one time he’d crossed paths with them, his uncle had almost died for it. No, he was done, _done._ He didn’t want to see the Avatar, hear about the Avatar, _think about the Avatar,_ ever again.

            _Ever._

*** * * * ***

            For three months now, ever since he and his uncle had finally made it to Ba Sing Se, his days had unfolded in the same mind-numbing fashion.

            In the morning, he rose early, with the sun, unable to shake a lifetime of ingrained habit. There was a firebending practice field around the corner from the shabby little apartment he shared with his uncle, and he would go straight there and work out for an hour or so. Then he would come back, take a bath, get dressed, and make breakfast while Uncle made tea. They would eat and drink together, across a tiny little table that had leaned to one side until the day Zuko had bought a cheap book for the sole purpose of propping up one of the legs.

            After breakfast, would come errands. Uncle restricted himself to the apartment and the local temple, it was just too risky for the former Crown Prince to expose himself needlessly, but Zuko could move relatively freely, _who would ever suspect the Exiled Prince of dressing like a commoner and scrubbing dishes and buying his own groceries?_ He would walk around a bit, buy anything they needed, come home, whip up some lunch.

            The afternoons and evenings were spent working. Time at work always passed quickly. One moment, he would be tossing aside a final cigarette, tying on his apron, and slipping in through the back door. Next thing he knew, he would be standing outside that same back door, watching Old Man Endo lock up for the night. If the night was pleasant, Zuko would take the long way home, wandering the streets, maybe buying a bottle of something alcoholic to share with his uncle. If the night was unpleasant – like, say, it was inhumanly humid, or there was a large crowd somewhere, or the Avatar was flying overhead – then he would just go straight home, shoulders hunched, head down, a cigarette dangling from his lips, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

            Nights were the worst times, though. After talking to his uncle, he would hurl himself into what could only with charity be dubbed a _bed_ , and then, the waiting would come. He would lie awake, sometimes all night, on and on through the endless, grinding hours. Never in his life had it been easy for him to sleep; there were always too many ghosts, too many memories, the vague suspicion that his sister would finally take it into her head to do away with him. And so he would just lie there, listening to his uncle snore, and wait for sleep to come.

            Sometimes it never did.

            But then, occasionally, it would. It steal up on him, and he would be drifting through dreams, most of them horrid, dark, vicious things, a swirling chaos of darkness and fire and pain and death and failure and disappointment.

            There was one dream, though, that he didn’t mind, the dream of big blue eyes and dark brown hair that fell down the back of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen like a waterfall. He thought about her a lot. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help it.

            If anything, deep down inside, he suspected that thinking and dreaming about her was the only thing he actually _did_ want, though he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t know if he’d ever wanted anything in his entire life, or, at least, wanted anything that he wasn’t told to want.

            Somehow, though, he knew she was different. Somehow.

            Some way.

*** * * * ***

            “Tsukuru-san?”

            Zuko frowned, looked up from the hot, soapy water his arms were currently buried in up to their elbows. Standing in the doorway to the tiny little room he worked in, her features blurred by thick clouds of steam, stood Mieko, one of the waitresses. She had an apologetic look on her fact, something he hadn’t ever seen on her, normally when she talked to him she was biting her lip and fighting back a smile and twirling a finger in her hair, which was why Uncle was always on him to ask her out, though, as Zuko always replied, _I will when you manage to explain to me what that actually **means.**_ Trying his best to look welcoming, he stepped back from the sink, snatching a towel off his shoulder to dry his hands as he gave Mieko a polite bow.

            “ _Kon'nichiwa_ , Mieko-san. What can I do for you?”

            Mieko shrugged, looking deeply uncomfortable. Her hands were clasped together at her waist, and she seemed to be fiddling with something.

            “Well…um…you see…” She stopped, paused, set her shoulders, ran a hand through her hair, though the other remained tightly clasped around whatever she was holding. “It’s just…look, I _know_ you said to stop bringing you tokens from random girls, but this one seemed…I don’t know…she seems _different,_ like she actually knows you, and she was very insistent, and I figured, maybe…I don’t know…I should come tell you about it, rather than brushing her off…”

            Zuko sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his increasingly shaggy mop of hair. His duties mostly consisted of washing dishes, but sometimes he wound up busing tables, too, or running out on some errand for Old Man Endo, and people would see him and, for some reason, rather than repelling them, girls seemed to find his scar terribly alluring. _It won’t even be the first time one of them has claimed to know me._

“It’s quite alright, Mieko-san,” he said, trying to sound calm and forgiving, it wasn’t her fault, after all, “it’s not the end of the world. Did she give you some token?”

            Mieko nodded. “She did, actually. Wouldn’t tell me her name, just said that I should give this to you and you’d know exactly who she was and then you’d want to talk to her.” She paused, tried to put on an expression of nonchalance. “I _told_ her that wouldn’t matter, that she wasn’t the first to try this, but she was _very_ insistent and I figured, you know, she’s a customer, very important-looking, too, why not indulge her, you know?”

            Zuko chuckled. “Fair enough.” He held out his hand. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, let’s see what it is this time.”

            At that, Mieko smiled, held out the token, dropped it into his hand, and got to see what it looked like when the young man she knew only as _Tazaki Tsukuru_ turned white as a sheet.

            Zuko couldn’t believe it. He wanted to scream, or maybe laugh, or maybe cry, or maybe all of the above. He just couldn’t… _couldn’t freaking believe it._ Of all the restaurants in the biggest city in the world, she just had to walk into his on a day when he’d had to go out into the front room to talk to Old Man Endo about something.

            Because, in his hand, was a Water Tribe betrothal necklace, one he’d know anywhere.

            She had found him, the girl from his dreams.

            Katara had caught him, just like he’d always known she would, just like, deep down inside, he'd always wanted her to.

*** * * * ***

            “Hey…”

            “Oh! Hey…I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come out to see me…”

            “Well…um…you know…I just…it was pretty busy tonight, I had a lot of work…”

            “Yeah, I realized that as soon as I gave my necklace to that nice girl…but it was too late and if I didn’t act I’d never work up the courage again and…just…hi…”

            “Hi…here’s your necklace back…”

            “No, you…you hold on to it for a bit…”

            “I really couldn’t…”

            “Well…I’ll take it back, but only on one condition.”

            “Name it.”

            “Really?”

            “It’s the least I can do, after everything I put you guys through…”

            “That’s…Zu…I mean…um…”

            “Tsukuru.”

            “Right, _Tsukuru,_ you…I was there, in the Spirit Oasis, when you talked to Yue and walked away…”

            “I know, I saw you on my way out…”

            “Right, and…then, when we fought your sister, and Uncle got hurt…how is he?”

            “He’s fine. Sore, still not as spry as he was before, but he’s fine.”

            “Oh, thank the gods…but…yeah…um…I will take my necklace, but only after you let me take you out for dinner.”

            “I…really?”

            “Really. I think…I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately…can’t seem to get you off my mind…”

            “Likewise…”

            “I had a feeling you’d say that, but… _yeah,_ just…listen, um… _Tsukuru…”_

“Yes, Katara…?”

            “It’s just…I think it’s time that you and I sat down and talked, you know, _really talked,_ just the two of us, no Aang, no mission, no anything, just… _talked…_ ”

            “I’d like that, though…I’m the one who owes you dinner, really, not the other way around…”

            “Maybe, but I’ve got the Emperor’s gold jangling in my pockets, which is probably a lot more than you have, so how about we just put the dinner you owe me on the tab and come back to it later?”

            “That…that seems fair…”

            “I thought so…when are you free tomorrow?”

            “I’m…I mean, if you’re not in a hurry, I’m free right now, actually…”

            “You know what, Zu…er…I mean, _Tsukuru,_ that…I like the sound of that.”

            “Me, too, Katara. Me, too.”

*** * * * ***

            When, a few weeks later, his sister finally caught him, she gave him a choice. He chose to take the blue-eyed girl from his dreams by the hand and run. It was amazingly easy.

            In many ways, when he thought about it later, he’d made his choice a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...there's this, like, HUGE rambling AN attached to this story over on FF.net that you're totally welcome to read, but you don't have to. Here, I'll content myself with explaining that, as I mentioned up above, today's story is a direct sequel to yesterday's, and both can be seen as a sort of prequel to "A Different Path," my first fan-fic. You can also, as usual, find me both on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter (directions to be found in literally every AN you've so far read).
> 
> Also, and this isn't important, but hey...who's got two thumbs along with two tickets for him and his wife to go see "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" on Friday night? Oh, right...THIS GUY.
> 
> Be jealous.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, we return to the Cop/Doctor AU as Zuko discovers a really irritating quirk of Water Tribe culture. Stay tuned!


	16. Forbidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking back, Zuko would probably have wondered why he didn't put two-and-two together when Katara told him he didn't need to take all those classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in the Cop/Doctor AU, which we previously visited in "Secret Lovers" and "Wedding." Some mild adult language, but, considering the situation, perfectly acceptable, I think.

**Forbidden**

KATARA WAS SPRAWLED ON HER COUCH, FEELING REMARKABLY LIKE A BEACHED WHALE, WHEN IT HAPPENED. Deep down inside, she wasn’t terribly surprised; the timing made a strange, perverse sort of sense, really. Zuko had, for once, had the previous weekend off, which meant that for three straight days, he had hovered over her, on edge, nervous as only he could be, waiting on her hand and foot. _That_ should’ve been when it happened, but, of course, _it didn’t._ No, Zuko had to go back to work today, which meant that Katara was left on the couch, missing him, when it finally happened.

            She wasn’t alone, fortunately. Yue was staying with them, having left her two children at home in the South with Sokka. Yue was right next to Katara at the critical moment, actually, listening to Toph and Azula’s radio show, expressing her disapproval.

            “I have to say,” Yue admitted, shaking her head and sounding for all the world like a disappointed grandmother, “I can’t say that this show is…well… _in line with my tastes.”_

Katara rolled her eyes and gave her sister-in-law a good-natured swat on the shoulder. “Oh, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud, Yue. I think it’s hysterical; I listen to Toph and Azula every morning.”

            Yue shrugged. “Well, everyone likes what they like, I suppose, though, I have to ask…must they be so…well… _crude?”_

Katara giggled, looking over her swollen belly and wishing that she could spontaneously develop the special powers necessary to make the glass of water she had sitting on the coffee table appear in her hand…or, at the very least, bend the water into her mouth. _Can’t do that, though,_ she mentally fumed. _No bending in the third trimester._ “Actually, they kind of have to be,” Katara explained, a sudden frown creasing her lips, because she felt a bit weird, all of a sudden, truth be told. “It’s part of their shtick. They’re not one of the highest rated radio programs for nothing.”

            Yue sighed, still looking decidedly unconvinced. “Well, I suppose…Katara, sweetheart, are you alright?”

            Katara frowned, looked down, felt something wet between her legs, and couldn’t help but smile, _because of **course** it happened right now._

“Oh, I’m fine, though I’m pretty sure my water just broke…”

*** * * * ***

            Zuko was very, very bored when the call came in. He was a junior sergeant with the Drug Unit, which meant that it was his turn to man the wiretap. That’s where he was that morning, one muff of the earphones on his right ear, the other turned up and resting on the left side of his head, trying to kill time by flicking pieces of paper folded up into little triangles at Suki, who was flicking them right back at him. He had just managed to bop his partner on the forehead, which elicited a round of applause from the half-dozen officers who had paused to watch and a middle finger from Suki ( _along with a promise to get him back, **just you wait, Zuk**_ ) when the phone on his desk rang. Without hesitation, he flipped the switch on the wiretap recording, transferring the feed to Suki’s station so that nothing would be missed, snatched up the phone, and said, “Drug Unit.”

            “Um, yes, Sergeant Zuko Tazaki?”

            Zuko pulled the headphones off and rubbed the previously confined ear. “Yeah, that’s me, you need the Lieutenant?”

            “Actually, no, I’m calling for you. Your sister-in-law just called, it seems that you wife has gone into labor.”

            Zuko ended up being very thankful that he had removed the headphones, because otherwise, his reaction of shooting straight to his feet would’ve ended quite disastrously. “ _You’re serious?!”_

“Um…yes, sir, your sister-in-law sounded quite serious. She said they were on their way to-“

            _“I know what fucking hospital they’re on their way to this amazing oh gods thank you, thank you, you just made my day, if she’s still on the line tell her I’m on my way **YES!** ”_

            What followed was quite the farcical sight. First, Zuko went running for the door. Then, he skidded to a stop, ran back, grabbed his jacket and his sidearm ( _because he was still technically on duty_ ), which he had left in a drawer in his desk. Then, he went for the door, desperately trying to shove his arms into his jacket, skidded to _another_ stop, ran over to the office where the Lieutenant on duty was plugging away at some paperwork, stuck his head in, and rambled in a breathless voice, “ _My wife’s just gone into labor and I need to get going is that okay I’m sorry I’ll stay if you really need me but I really need to get going sorry LT I-“_

The Lieutenant stopped Zuko with a raised hand, shaking his head and obviously trying not to burst into hysterical laughter. “It’s alright, Zuko, it’s not every day that you get to become a father. Get your ass out the door.”

            How Zuko stopped himself from leaping in the air and clicking his heels together in glee, he would never know. “ _Thank you so much sir and I’m going to need the rest of the week off, too.”_

He was already on his way out the door by the time the Lieutenant shouted, “ _Of course you do, don’t even think about coming in tomorrow!”_

This time, he was halfway down the hallway before he skidded to another stop, spun around on his heels, and ran back into the squad room, nearly bowling over Suki, who was standing there, shaking her head and smiling.

            “Forget something, Zuk?” she asked, holding out the keys to her car, because Zuko hated driving in Republic City ( _why couldn’t they drive on the left-side of the road like back in the Homeland, that was **obviously** the best way to do things_) so he typically rode to work with Suki and Katara took their car to the hospital she worked at.

            He snatched the keys away, threw his arms around the woman who had been his partner since the Academy, picked her up and spun her around.

            _“Yes thank you you’re the best Suki I’ll love you forever I’m going to be a father call you when I know something I’ll send Azula back with the car to get you thanks goodbye!”_

And with that, he was gone, ushered out by a chorus of cheers and enthusiastic applause.

*** * * * ***

            Zuko wasn’t terribly surprised to find that Toph and Azula had beaten him to the hospital. After all, Azula drove like a bat out of hell and Toph, being Toph, was not in the habit of trying to discourage her from doing so, no, when he came skidding around a corner and started racing for the door to the delivery room, he wasn’t exactly _shocked_ to find them there.

            What _did_ surprise him, though, was when Toph unfolded her white cane ( _which she didn’t really need, but she liked smacking people with it_ ) with a flick of her wrist and held up at the height of Zuko’s waist. For what felt like the thousandth time that amazing day, Zuko came skidding to a halt, well aware of how ridiculous he looked, and also not caring in the slightest.

            “Not so fast, Dork-Face,” Toph drawled, clucking her tongue in disapproval. “No husbands beyond this point.”

            Zuko reared back, utterly lost. “Um… _excuse me?_ Katara’s about to deliver our first child and you’re _crazy_ if you think you can keep me out of there. I even did all the classes!”

            This time, it was his sister who spoke, standing up and crossing her arms as she took position behind Toph’s cane and in front of the door.

            “Sorry, Zu-Zu, but Katara and Yue were _very_ explicit on you not coming inside.”

            Zuko ran his hands through his hair, his brain having completely lost the ability to function. “But…I…what…but…”

            Toph shrugged. “ _Apparently,_ it’s, like, forbidden for men to be in the delivery room before the baby’s born in the Water Tribes. Bad luck, or some such bullshit.”

            “Big time taboo, apparently,” Azula elaborated, stepping over Toph’s cane and taking Zuko by the shoulders. “Like, _big time._ So, don’t argue, _I mean it,_ Katara didn’t even let Uncle in, so why don’t you come with me to the outside patio and join Uncle in pacing, you know, light a cigarette, mumble and grumble under your breath, the usual.”

            Zuko was unable to really speak, but he wasn’t able to stop his sister as she moved him right along, either. “But…what if…something might happen…I need to…”

            “Don’t worry,” Azula continued, not stopping, keeping him moving, “we’ll come get you the _second_ we know what’s up, okay?”

            “Yeah, but…”

            “Oh, hush, Zu-Zu. Go outside, have a smoke, and do what your wife says.”

            “I…but…I _always_ do what Katara says…”

            “And thank Agni you do, because you can’t expect me to keep an eye on you _forever,_ can you?”

            “But…I…”

            “ _Zuko.”_

“ _Okay…”_

*** * * * ***

            Their daughter was born at three-forty-six in the afternoon, completely healthy, not a thing wrong with her. The delivery had gone as smoothly as anyone could wish, no complications, nothing to worry about. When Zuko was finally allowed into the delivery room, Katara was looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her. She was covered in sweat, her hair was a mess, and she looked utterly exhausted, but she was smiling and glowing and fighting back tears as Zuko settled down onto the bed next to her and she slid their daughter into his arms.

            “Well, Daddy,” Katara said, sounding effervescently happy through her exhaustion, “what do you think?”

            Zuko thought he had never been so happy. He thought he was luckiest man in the world. He had forgotten all about the pacing and the waiting, all about the confusion at the delivery room door, forgotten all about his fears and his doubts and the insanity of the day, because the little girl in his arms had his mother’s golden eyes and his wife’s face and complexion and she was just absolutely _gorgeous._

“I think…” He took a deep breath, let it out, struggling valiantly against the tears. “I think…this is the happiest day of my life.” He cradled his daughter in his arms, settled down into the bed, let Katara nuzzle into his shoulder. “How’re you feeling, babe?”

            Katara sighed, closed her eyes, and smiled.

            “The same. I love you, Zuko.”

            He kissed her forehead. “I love you, too, Katara.”

            And that was the day that Zuko met his first daughter, Korra Tazaki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's not Zutara Month without at least one story involving the birth of a Steam!Baby and Zuko being a complete and utter dork. In that regard, I like to think that I delivered. By the way, how did I go about writing Zuko's reaction? Well, that's easy: I'm a massive dork, and I just imagined how I will be reacting on the day my wife first gives birth, which is a thing that's totally going to happen before too terribly long here and that I'm kind of frightened of, not the event itself, but how not frightened I am by the prospect. There's a bit more rambling on this subject over on FF.net (which is attached to a profile you should probably know how to find by now), plus a lot of me gushing about my wife, which NEVER gets old for me, but whatever, nyah.
> 
> Not much to add here. As usual, you can also find this on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter (directions in previous entries). 
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, we continue in this AU as we pop in with young Korra Tazaki at seventeen, as she tries to get a boyfriend before her little sister manages to beat her to the punch...at least until Korra's bestie, Asami, makes a novel suggestion. Stay tuned!


	17. Complementary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, though Korra didn't realize it for a long time, she was more like her parents than she ever would've suspected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another entry in the Cop/Doctor AU, previously seen in "Secret Lovers," "Wedding," and yesterday's "Forbidden."

**Complementary**

AT THE START OF HER SENIOR YEAR OF SECONDARY SCHOOL, KORRA TAZAKI DECIDED THAT SHE NEEDED A BOYFRIEND. Because she was her mother’s daughter, she, naturally, had a whole host of serious, intelligent, not-at-all silly reasons for this momentous decision. For example, she was seventeen-years-old, only a few months away from being eighteen, and thus, it was _about time._ There was also the fact that, with university just around the corner, she felt that it would be wise to have a few dates under her belt before she stepped out beyond parental supervision. She had even taken her age into account in a different way, feeling that, at seventeen, she had acquired just enough maturity to be able to go about the process in a calm, rational sort of way.

            Of course, since she had also inherited her mother’s mile-wide streak of spite ( _with a liberal dollop of the same from her father_ ), all of those reasons paled in comparison to the simple fact that, over the summer, her fifteen-year-old little sister, Ursa, had had _her_ first date, and Korra simply could not allow that to stand. _Not that that was silly or anything…_

*** * * * ***

            She started the process in a scientific manner, sitting down with her best friend Asami in the school cafeteria, leaning close, and carefully compiling a list of the qualities she desired. The fact that this process took place half in giggles, and that the list was written with a pencil that was pink and decorated with a floral pattern should not, she felt, in away diminish how she was going about things.

            The most important thing, Korra decided, was to find a boy who was _complementary_ to herself. Not in the _My, that dress looks ravishing on you_ kind of way, but, rather, in the _I have something they lack, and they have something I lack_ kind of way. She had drawn this conclusion from a lifetime spent watching her parents interact. _Complementary_ was an _excellent_ way to describe her parents. For example, both of her parents had a bit of a temper, but while her father’s fuse was exceptionally short, her mother’s was exceptionally long. Mom’s fuse simmered, while Dad’s popped. Over the years, she had discovered the way these qualities complimented each other. Whenever Dad was mad, he would look at his wife to see if the issue at hand was something worth getting angry about, and when Mom was mad, she had a tendency to toss the problem to her husband and let _him_ be furious for her.

            Or, take the issue of _planning._ Dad wasn’t much of a planner, while Mom, if anything, tended to think a bit too far ahead. Whenever they planned a vacation, Mom was always the one in charge, but Dad was the one who could devise something on the fly. These two qualities had come together beautifully, with the result that neither Korra nor her sister had ever been able to remember a single family outing or vacation that was anything but amazing.

            Korra had also quizzed her parents on how they felt they complimented each other, though she had come away more confused than ever before. Her mother, sighing like a love-struck schoolgirl, had explained that Korra’s father was, quote, _The smartest, kindest, most mind-numbingly handsome man I’ve ever met. How could I not love him?_ This seemed to make sense, until Korra asked her father, who had sighed like a love-struck schoolboy and mused that Korra’s mother was, and, again, to quote, _The most intelligent, most amazing, most stunningly beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. What was I supposed to do, not fall for her?_

This made no sense, so, in mutual consultation with Asami, Korra decided to set that aside and stick to the whole _complementary_ track.

*** * * * ***

            Korra’s first attempt at a date happened completely by accident. It was a nice day, and the weekend, too, so Korra had called Asami and, together, they had gone down to their favorite park to enjoy the sunshine. That’s where they were, perched atop a picnic table, kicking their legs back-and-forth, munching on some ice cream, when a lanky boy had strolled up, leaned against a handy pillar, struck a pose, and drawled in an astoundingly erudite voice, “My mother always told me that, when one sees two lovely young ladies out on a marvelous day, that it is a crime against the gods to not go over and say hello.”

            Asami immediately burst into a fit of giggles, but Korra bit down on her own laughter and examined the boy in question. He was tall and thin, with dark brown hair that was the kind of messy that could only be achieved through at least an hour of careful work. His outfit was immaculately put-together, and everything about him screamed, _I know I’m awesome, and I put a lot of work into making sure I look it._ His complexion was a bit strange, an odd cross of Fire Nation paleness and Water Tribe darkness, but then again, Korra _did_ live in Republic City, and she was of mixed parentage herself.

            Deciding that the boy was at least interesting enough to indulge, she tilted her head and said, “Well, I’m glad you decided not to commit blasphemy.”

            That set Asami off again, while the boy gave an elegant shrug and said, still in that slightly bizarre nasal drawl, “I would have to agree with you, my fair lady.” He shoved off the pillar – again, _elegantly_ – and gave a bow that wouldn’t have been out of place at a royal function in the Fire Nation. “I, my ladies, am Tahno. Who would I have the honor of addressing?”

            Intrigued, Korra replied, “I’m Korra, and this is my bestie, Asami.”

            “A pleasure,” he said, drawing himself up to a military-grade, yet relaxed, attention. “And what, might I ask, brings you to this fair park today?”

            “The ice cream, mostly,” Asami offered, rolling her eyes so hard Korra was surprised they didn’t pop out of her skull.

            Korra smirked at the answer, but decided to see just how far this could go. “It’s also a good place to watch the local bending groups practice.”

            It was true; like all the parks in Republic City, this one had an area where one could take low-cost bending classes, nevermind the individuals and small groups learning on their own. Korra herself had learned much of her firebending at parks like this one, tutored by her father and Auntie Zula.

            “Ah, I see!” Tahno observed, quirking an immaculate eyebrow. “Well, as it so happens, I’m a waterbender myself, and, judging by your looks, I would have to guess that yourself are a practitioner of that ancient and noble art. I’m always prepared to give…ahem… _private lessons_ to worthy candidates.”

            Asami was just about bright pink by this point, shoulders heaving with barely suppressed hysterics, but Korra was still interested enough to keep things going. _And besides, it’s an easy mistake to make; I take after Mom quite a bit in looks, enough that most people miss the fact that my hair, though curly, is jet black, and that my eyes are gold, like Dad and Auntie Zula’s._ “Sadly,” she admitted, “no, I’m not. I’m a firebender, like my father; it’s my little sister who’s the waterbender.”

            Just like that, Tahno’s interest evaporated. “Oh,” he said, all the erudition having fled from his voice. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

            Korra frowned. “Why?”

            “Well, _you see,_ I’m afraid I only date waterbenders. Just a personal preference, really.” With that, he gave a final bow ( _though not as elegant as the one before, Korra noticed_ ), turned on his heel, and made a dignified exit.

            Or, at least, _tried to._ He might have pulled it off, too, if Korra had not revealed that she was her father’s daughter and her Auntie Zula’s niece by snapping off a little ball of flame at Tahno’s rear, not hot enough to hurt, but _definitely_ hot enough to make the stuck-up prick jump a good foot in the air and squeal like a little girl.

            Korra and Asami laughed about that for _days._

*** * * * ***

            Korra’s second attempt had the distinction leading to something that actually resembled a _date._ Her and Asami attended a private school organized along Fire Nation lines ( _a choice of her mother’s, oddly enough; Mom was a big fan of the Fire Nation education system_ ), but the school shared its firebending practice field with a nearby public school. It was there that she first encountered a boy named Mako. Mako, Korra decided, would be her next attempt at a boyfriend. He was her age, was devilishly handsome, and had an air of mystery that her seventeen-year-old heart couldn’t help but find rather appealing. Indeed, he reminded her of her father in a lot of ways, especially when Auntie Zula and Aunt Suki swapped stories of the days before Dad met Mom, when he went around with a permanent scowl on his face.

            For a good three weeks, Korra constantly put herself in Mako’s way. She even coordinated joint assaults with Asami, Asami distracting the boy’s twin brother, an earthbender named Bolin, while Korra cornered Mako and tried to engage him in witty banter ( _or, at least, what she **hoped** was witty banter; sadly, she took after her father in some unfortunate ways_ ). It was all for naught; Mako seemed completely and utterly oblivious.

            In the end, Korra snapped, marching right up to the guy, shoving a finger in his chest, and demanding that he ask her out.

            He stammered for a good minute, before finally choking out, “Um…uh…you like me?”

            Korra rolled her eyes. “No, I’ve just been throwing myself at you for three weeks because I’m _bored._ ”

            He blushed bright red. “Oh…um…well then, uh…wanna go grab a bite to eat after school today?”

            That perked up her day, not least because, if she went straight from school, she would still be in her uniform, and thus wouldn’t have to spend an hour trying on outfits while her sister mocked her. “Sounds great! Endo’s Noodle Shop, six o’clock. See you there!”

            Asami was _very_ impressed, even throwing Korra thumbs’ up in praise.

*** * * * ***

            The date was a disaster. It lasted all of ten minutes. This is how it went.

            “So,” Mako opened, as they sipped a couple of sodas and looked at the menu, “you go to the private school, huh?”

            “The uniform tip you off?”

            “Well…um…heh…uh…just trying to make conversation…why the Fire Nation-style private school?”

            “Well, my mom’s a doctor, and my dad inherited a good bit of money from _his_ father,” _which was the only decent thing he ever did for Dad, may the bastard burn in hell,_ “so my parents felt that, since they could afford it, why not do private school?”

            “Oh, alright, fair enough…why not Water Tribe, though? They have a few schools run on those lines…”

            Korra frowned, not sure she liked Mako’s tone. It just felt…well… _she just didn’t like it._ “Why, because I’m half-Water Tribe?”

            Mako blushed bright red and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…um… _yeah…_ ”

            “As it happens, my parents looked at those schools, but they’re all run along _Northern_ Water Tribe lines, which means that the genders are segregated and girls don’t get to learn the same things boys do. Mom didn’t like that, but she really liked what she saw at my current school, so this is where my little sister and I go.”

            “Oh…well…that make sense…so your mom’s Water Tribe?”

            “Born and raised in the South! She came here for medical school, because Northern med schools don’t take girls and Republic City’s med schools are the next best after those, and now she’s a doctor.”

            Mako’s eyes went wide, though Korra couldn’t help but detect a hint of discomfort. “That’s cool! What about your dad?”

            Korra nodded at her menu and set it aside, satisfied with her choice. “Well, my dad grew up in the Fire Nation, in Miyako, actually, but when he was sixteen, he and my aunt came here to live with their uncle, Grandpa Iroh.” Korra sighed, and shook off the sadness; Grandpa Iroh had passed away four years ago now, but it still made her want to cry to think about it. “But, yeah, they came here, and Grandpa Iroh was a cop, so my dad decided to be a cop, too.”

            That’s when things went well and truly _wrong._ Mako shot upright in his chair, eyes wide, color rapidly draining from his face. “Wait…um…your dad’s a _cop…?”_

Korra leaned back in her chair, feeling utterly lost. “Um… _yeah?_ He’s a detective with the RCPD, works in Homicide. Is that a problem?” _Because if you’re one of those people who just goes around hating cops,_ Korra thought, feeling equally confused and irritated, _you’re about to find out just how much I take after Mom._

But Mako was already making his escape, shooting out of his seat and running for the door, pointing at a cheap cell phone as he babbled some sort of excuse about his brother.

            He was quickly replaced by Asami, who had been watching from the bar, sipping a cup of tea. “So,” Asami said, taking up the menu the boy had abandoned, “what was _that_ about?”

            Korra shrugged, settling her chin into the palm of her hand. “Beats me. Maybe my dad arrested him at some point?” _Wouldn’t be the first time, really…_

            “It’s more than possible,” Asami admitted, turning a page in the menu. “Still hungry?”

            “Starved.”

*** * * * ***

            Her third attempt at a date ended up solving what she and Asami had dubbed _The Mystery of Mako._ She had happened to run into Bolin at the park, heading to an earthbending class, pulled him aside, and asked him what was up.

            Looking embarrassed, he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck in a way startlingly similar to his brother. “Hey, look, Korra, I just…it didn’t have anything to do with you. It’s just that my brother…well…after our parents died, he got into a bad crowd, and he happens to have a _bit_ of a rap sheet…”

            Korra made a face. “And he thinks that means he can’t date me?”

            Bolin shrugged. “He has a thing about cops.”

            Korra waved that aside. “Oh, come on. My dad’s one of the good ones. He didn’t have the easiest childhood, either, he understands that bad times can lead to bad decisions.”

            Bolin scoffed. “Yeah, well, _come on,_ what’s he supposed to think? Your dad’s the kind of guy who can send his daughters to a top private school; how hard of a life could he have had?”

            Korra had been in the midst of thinking that maybe Bolin would be a better choice than his twin brother, _he definitely has better social skills,_ but he scotched his chances right then and there. _Gods, is there a gene for sticking your foot in your mouth? If so, these two have it._

Naturally, Korra chose to ignore the fact that, if there _was_ such a gene, between her mother and her father, she had said gene in _spades._

            “My father’s father got drunk one night and tried to take a knife to my aunt. When my dad tried to stop him, his father took the knife to his face instead. When my grandmother got home from work and saw the paramedics loading my dad into an ambulance, she went upstairs, got the gun from their apartment, and unloaded the entire clip into her husband’s chest, which is why I didn’t meet my grandmother until I was nine, because the Fire Nation justice system has some pretty intense issues.” She took a step back and cocked her head. “That rough enough to meet your standards?”

            Bolin, to his credit, decided not to argue, and beat a hasty retreat instead.

*** * * * ***

            “ _Ugh._ The hell am I supposed to do, Asami? This is _hopeless._ ”

            “I don’t know what to tell you, Korra. It’s like you were born under a bad sign or something.”

            “ _Tell me about it._ I mean, my sister’s got _another_ date lined up for this weekend. How can I ever show my face again, knowing that my _little sister_ got a boyfriend before I did?”

            “Well…I mean, it wouldn’t be _that_ bad…”

            “Have you met Ursa?”

            “True…she would rub your nose in it for the rest of your life…”

            “ _Exactly._ I just… _ugh._ What am I going to do?”

            “You could ask your parents for help; I’m sure your mom could hook you up with a nice doctor’s son.”

            “ _Gods,_ Asami, are you _kidding me?_ That would be…I’d rather _die_ first. I love my parents, but…just… _ew._ And don’t even _think_ about telling me to ask Auntie Zula, or Aunt Toph. They’d probably try and buy me an escort or something.”

            “Now, there’s an idea…”

            “ _Not helping, Asami!”_

“Alright, alright…well…um…oh, nevermind…”

            “What? Don’t hold out on me!”

            “It’s just…well…have you considered that, maybe, you’re actually into girls?”

            “…well, to be honest…this stays between you and me, right?”

            “What are besties for?”

            “Okay…it’s just…that _is_ something I’ve thought about…”

            “Then why not look into that?”

            “Oh, come on, I mean, Dad’s Fire Nation, they don’t really care about such things, but you know how the Water Tribes are about stuff like that. It’s still punishable by prison in the North, if you can believe it!”

            “Maybe…but, for one thing, your mother isn’t _from_ the North, she’s from the South, and for another, well…I don’t think she’s as much of a prude as you like to think she is.”

            “Oh, _come on,_ have you _met_ my parents? They are the _opposite_ of cool.”

            “I dunno, I think your dad’s pretty chill.”

            “Yeah, well, _whatever,_ point is, there’s no _way_ my mom would go for that.”

            “Why not? Isn’t she the woman who married your dad in a courthouse when her father refused to grant the permission needed to get a shaman-officiated ceremony? And this after they’d lived together for over a year?”

            “…okay, _point._ But…whatever, it doesn’t matter, anyways. Who would I ask out?”

            “Well…um…not to put too fine a point on it…maybe me…?”

            It was a long time before Korra spoke, and even longer time before she stopped kicking herself for not seeing it before.

*** * * * ***

            In the end, Asami was right: Korra’s mom was _totally_ fine with it. Indeed, the only thing she had to say, when Korra formally introduced Asami as her _girlfriend, but not, like, **girls who are friends,** Mom, we’re **dating,**_ was to smirk, turn to Korra’s dad, and snark, “See, Zuko? Told you. Pay up.”

            Korra’s dad immediately paid up, grumbling at Korra something along the lines of, _Couldn’t wait until you got to university, could you? Brat…_

Naturally, Ursa was not impressed, maintaining that, since Korra had a _girlfriend,_ and not a _boyfriend,_ that Ursa still won, because she would have a _boyfriend_ first, _you never said anything about **girlfriends,** Sis, so nyah!_

            Needless to say, this annoyed Korra to no end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another entry that has many ancestors, both of which are explained - at length - over in the AN attached to this story on FF.net. The short story is that the big parent is my wife, and a series of conversations I've had with her over the years about how we would raise our children. Not how we'd want them to BE; we'll settle for happy, healthy, fulfilled, and decent human beings, and let them figure out the rest as they go along. The other parent is Lady Kaelyn of Midgard, who hit me up on Twitter (which you can all do) and request some Tahno at some point. I almost didn't manage to fulfill that request, but then I found that I didn't like my planned response for today, threw it out, and hit upon a MUCH more entertaining one.
> 
> There's also a bit of extra backstory on this particular AU over in that particular AN, which you can scope if you feel the need. In here, I'll just make clear about the Steam!Babies: Zuko and Katara have two daughters, Korra (because Sokka had a daughter first, and thus stole the name Kya before Katara could get to it) and Ursa (for obvious reasons). Is Korra, in this case, the Avatar? Hmm...that would be pretty wicked, wouldn't it? I'll leave that up to you guys.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, our favorite couple sit on a hill in the middle of nowhere, waiting for one world to end and a new one to begin. Stay tuned!


	18. End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, it always came down to them both, together, waiting for the light after the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say here. Just...you know...READ IT.

**End of the World**

IN THE END, AFTER ALL THE PLANS AND DREAMS OF MAN AND WOMAN, IT ALL CAME DOWN TO A BOY AND A GIRL, SITTING ON A HILL IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, WATCHING THE NIGHT SKY. They sat together, the girl between the boy’s legs, her back pressed to his chest, his chin on her head, his arms tight around her body. It was a cloudless night, but cold, so they huddled under several thick blankets, because they couldn’t be bothered to put their clothes back on. They drifted, together, lost in a sea of memories, of hugs and kisses, of long nights spent wrapped up in each other, whispering the dreams that they shared, hoping for a future on a world that had none.

            They weren’t sad. Somehow, that felt like it would be wrong, to be sad in a moment like this. They were going out together, just like they were always meant to, holding each other tight, keeping each other warm as they waited for the darkness to come.

            They didn’t speak, not until the shooting stars began to appear, began to split up into dozens of other, smaller shooting stars, hurtling down from the heavens. They knew what was coming. The stars would fall, dozens, hundreds, thousands, all over the world. They would come and they would fall and the light would come, white-hot blinding light, and then the darkness, and then, maybe… _just maybe…_

“Zuko?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Do you…do you ever get the feeling that we’ve done this all before? You and me, together, over and over again?”

            “I…I do, actually, since the day we met. Remember what I said, on our first date?”

            “How could I ever forget? _I feel like I’ve known you my entire life._ It gave me chills…”

            “You know, I was terrified it would creep you out…”

            “Honestly, I was debating saying the same thing to you…”

            “So…you mean…I got to be first for once?”

            “Just once…”

            The stars were falling, ever closer, ever brighter, at least three looking like they would strike within ten kilometers of their lonely little hill.

            “Zuko?”

            “Yes?”

            “When we see each other again…wherever that is, whenever that is, however that is…promise me that, this time, you’ll have a smoother pick-up line?”

            “Hmm…how about I just forgo pick-up lines altogether, and just outright ask you out?”

            “You know…that might be a better idea…”

            The stars had struck, deep booms, like the earth itself was cracking open.

            “Katara?”

            “I love you, too, Zuko.”

            “…meanie…”

            “Love me?”

            “Forever.”

            They kissed. The light was coming.

            “See you on the other side?”

            “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

            The light came, and then the darkness, but they didn’t hear it, because they were too busy laughing.

*** * * * ***

            A new sound penetrated to her. She heard boots in the dirt and the grass, a soldier snapping to attention, a softly spoken order, the reply, just as soft, just as clipped, then the tent flap opened and closed and the tent was filled with the smell of food and tea and she smiled, smiled because the boy who had entered was the _other_ reason her mind was reeling.

            She opened her eyes, just in time to see the boy stop in front of her. She took him in, running her eyes up and down him.

            She smiled. He smiled back.

            It would be a long time before Lieutenant Tokugawa Zuko and Katara, daughter of Hakoda, understood why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those playing the home game, you're damn straight I whipped right back around to the beginning of what is, in many ways, the magnum opus of my fanfiction career: "Romance of the Four Nations." It's hanging out on my author profile page over at FF.net; you should totally read it, because it rocks. I even have testimonials from Zutara haters who enjoyed it, and that's not an endorsement, I don't know what to do with you.
> 
> So...I'm going to try to keep my comments brief here, as well as point out that, for once, the AN here is the exact same as the one over on FF.net. What I really wanted to say is that this is, quite possibly, the oldest story I've ever written. Back when I was first getting into writing, even before I learned how to not suck at it (and trust me, in the beginning, I sucked SO FUCKING HARD you guys), I was always fascinated by end-of-the-world stories. There was always this image, of two people (typically a boy and a girl, because even I can struggle with being hetero-normative sometimes) sitting on a hill in the middle of nowhere, waiting for the world to end. That's always been a powerful image for me, and my first attempts at writing were trying to figure out how to tell a compelling story of how that boy and that girl got there. Thus, when I saw the prompt for today, what I should write was pretty goddamn obvious. Thus, this.
> 
> Also, just as naturally, the idea has already been done, and in one case, done exceptionally. I am, of course, talking about the wonderful film, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World. I just fucking love that movie. It's even tied into one the best dates my now-wife and I ever had, when she drove all the up from Texas to Wichita, Kansas (where I was stuck working for a year) just to see me and so I wouldn't have to go see that movie alone. *sigh* I love you, babe.
> 
> Oh, yeah, and because it would be remiss of me to say...TODAY IS THE MOTHERFUCKING DAY STAR WARS MOTHERFUCKERS GAH! The wife and I even went out and bought cool new Star Wars shirts for this, and the wife even let me think I was picking mine out on my own! :-D
> 
> But that's enough, I think. Tune in for tomorrow's episode, wherein we pop into the AU I created for Zutara Week 2015, "Of Brothers and Sisters" (also on my FF.net page) as Suki observes how helping Aang save the world seems to look a lot like babysitting. See you then!


	19. Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As she watched Zuko and Katara try to argue Aang out of doing something stupid, Suki couldn't help but notice that helping the Avatar save the world seemed to strongly resemble babysitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up on my project for this years Zutara Week, "Of Brothers and Sisters" (to be found on my FF.net profile), which you should totally scope (though it's not necessary in order to enjoy the following story).

**Babysitting**

THE SCENE THAT SUKI DISCOVERED DOWN ON THE BEACH WAS A CURIOUS – IF NOT EXACTLY _UNEXPECTED_ – ONE. Sokka and Azula were about where she expected to find them, perched on a random rock, passing a cigarette back-and-forth, talking about whatever it was they were always talking about. Suki strolled right up to them, coming to a stop on Sokka’s side of the rock, crossing her arms, tilting her head, and quirking an eyebrow at the drama playing out down at the shoreline.

            “So,” she asked, half-turning to Sokka and Azula, “dare I ask what the issue is this time?”

            Sokka chuckled, while Azula rolled her eyes and drawled in that royal manner that she seemed unable to do anything about, “The usual. Aang wants to do something that _sounds_ fun, but is in fact _outrageously_ dangerous, so Katara and my brother are doing their best to stop him from doing it.”

            Suki nodded, pursing her lips in thought. “Is this a common occurrence?”

            “Almost daily, really,” Sokka confirmed, taking a puff from the mutual cigarette and passing it back to Azula.

            It really was an interesting sight, especially to someone like Suki, who was – as yet – unaccustomed to it. Down at the edge of the beach, the would-be Avatar, looking more like a fifteen-year-old boy than at any time since the group had arrived on Kyoshi Island five days before, was engaged in a heated discussion with Zuko and Katara. Aang kept swinging back-and-forth between the two of them, gesturing wildly at the bay, his expression one of pleading, while to either side of him, the husband-and-wife team of former prince and chief’s daughter stood firm, arms crossed, expressions grave, occasionally stealing exasperated glances at each other over the top of the Avatar’s head.

            Not for the first time since she had met the group, Suki found herself struggling not to laugh, _especially_ when Sokka and Azula began narrating.

            “But _Moooooom,_ ” Sokka whined, pitching his voice up an octave while Aang was facing Katara, his hands clasped together in a pose of abject begging, “why won’t you let me do the thing?”

            “Because,” Azula intoned, in a remarkable impression of Katara, just as Katara was wagging a finger at Aang, “it’s dangerous, and because I said so, and that’s the end of it.”

            Just then, Aang whipped around to Zuko, arms spread wide, while Sokka imitated, “ _Daaaaad,_ can you _please_ talk some sense into Mom?”

            Zuko just shook his head, while Azula’s voice boomed in yet another spot-in impression, this time of her brother. “Don’t look at me, buddy. Your mother’s right.”

            Aang stomped a foot, fists balled at his sides, causing Sokka to say, “Gods, _Dad,_ you _always_ take Mom’s side!”

            Again, Azula had a reply, as Zuko gestured at an increasingly exasperated Katara. “You know, young man, there’s probably a lesson in there for you.”

            Just then, Aang’s hands went up to his head, fingers tangling in his short brown hair in frustration, and Sokka – with difficulty, considering the hysterics he was trying to hold back – said, “ _Ugh,_ you guys _never_ let me have any fun!”

            Katara seemed to have a response, though Suki only heard Azula’s impression of it. “We’d let you have _plenty_ of fun if you just did what we said.”

            The pair couldn’t continue, because they had collapsed into a giggle-fit worthy of a gaggle of small children, which Suki unashamedly took part in. The argument down by the sea was still in progress when, after getting themselves under control, Suki wiped her eyes and observed, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t help but observe how much _helping the Avatar save the world_ seems to resemble babysitting.”

            Sokka guffawed, while Azula rolled her eyes and nodded. “You can say _that_ again, sister.” Then, the former princess sighed, and her hands traveled up to start playing with the tight Water Tribe braid she kept her hair in. “Can’t help but love the little twerp, though.”

            Sokka threw an arm around them both. “You know what? You can’t.”

            Suki giggled, and pointed at the scene. “Well, in that case, shouldn’t you two go help?”

            The answer was quick, sharp, and in perfect unison.

            “ _FUCK NO.”_

It was a long time before Suki managed to stop laughing about _that_ one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun! Like, super fun. One of the more entertaining facets of the show was exactly what Suki just observed: The times when, for Katara, at least, helping Aang save the world looked one hell of a lot like babysitting. I'd make a comment about how downright disturbing that makes Canon!Kataang, but that's been covered - at length - by people who are far more eloquent and far less foul-mouthed than myself.
> 
> Not really one hell of a lot to talk about here, honestly. The story speaks for itself, to the point that you really don't need to read Of Brothers and Sisters to enjoy yourself. You totally should, because I'm pretty happy with how that particular piece turned out, but you don't have to...I guess... *huffs and stomps off*
> 
> As is traditional, you can find this story (with the exact same AN for once) over on FF.net, under the same SN as this profile. It's also on Tumblr (again, same SN), and you can even follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Zuko has the unfortunate task of informing Katara that their honeymoon plans are threatening to become an international incident. Stay tuned!


	20. Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they head into crunch time on their coming royal nuptials, Zuko and Katara finds their honeymoon threatening to become something of a diplomatic incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As has often been the case this month, the following story can be read as a follow-up to "A Different Path," but, as is also usual, can also stand on its own if you don't feel like reading that piece.

**Honeymoon**

            “HEY, KATARA? I NEED TO-“

            “Hold on one second, I need you to look at this.”

            “Um… _okay…_ what am I looking at?”

            “The finalized guest list for my post-coronation banquet.”

            “Right on…why do I need to look at this?”

            “Because, until the morning of said banquet, I’m not actually the Fire Lady yet. Thus, _you_ still need to be the one to sign off on it.”

            “Oh, right, my bad. I guess I forget sometimes that you haven’t yet been crowned.”

            “You and me, both. Now, go on, read it over. I miss anybody?”

            “…hmm…I don’t think so…did Uncle already sign off on it? He _is_ currently the Chief Minister, and about to become my Prime Minister, too, after all.”

            “Who do you think helped me make it?”

            “…Toph?”

            “…that is actually a fair suspicion to have, if I’m brutally honest with myself. _In this case,_ though, I kept her far away from it.”

            “ _Thank Agni._ Alright…um…if Uncle says it’s fine, I’m sure it’s alright. Is this the one I sign off on, or what?”

            “…actually, I’m not _entirely_ sure. Shouldn’t you know this stuff?”

            “And how many royal weddings have I planned?”

            “…good point. Alright, give it to me, and I’ll go track down Iroh. Now, what did you need? I thought you were in a Privy Council meeting.”

            “Well, technically, at least, I still _am._ Thing is, I need you to sit on this one.”

            “Seriously, Zuko? I mean, I know I attend most of them, but…do you have any _idea_ how much studying and planning is taking over my life right now?”

            “Judging by how much I’m not getting laid…quite a bit.”

            “ _Ugh,_ don’t remind me. I’m so horny I slosh when I walk.”

            “…is that an invitation?”

            “Depends on how much longer you want to make the Privy Council wait.”

            “…”

            “Zuko?”

            “I’m thinking…”

            “Seriously, _don’t tempt me._ Anyways, why do I need to postpone a dress fitting-“

            “Another one?”

            “You know how many gods-damn dresses I have to wear on the Big Day?”

            “…I’m guessing at least a dozen.”

            “ _At least._ Anyways, like I was saying, why do I-“

            “It’s about our honeymoon.”

            “…seriously?”

            “I _so_ wish I was joking.”

            “But…how…the _only_ part of this process that has been simple has been the freaking honeymoon, Zuko.”

            “Look, trust me, _I know.”_

“So, what’s the problem? Did some issue come up with the renovations at Ember Island?”

            “Actually, that’s going just fine. The Royal Vacation Estate will apparently be ready by the end of next month.”

            “…okay, then what’s the problem?”

            “This.”

            “…you’re kidding.”

            “Nope.”

            “But…how did…this has _got_ to be one of Toph’s sick jokes.”

            “I assure you it is not. The Northern Water Tribe ambassador personally delivered it to Uncle just this morning.”

            “That’s…but…okay, let me get this straight…the Northern Water Tribe has officially requested the _honor_ of hosting us for our honeymoon.”

            “That’s about the long and short of it. Oh, Kuei’s gotten in on the action, too.”

            “…anyone else?”

            “King Bumi, two of the Air Temples, the Bei Fongs-“

            “Okay, _that one_ is _totally_ Toph fucking with us.”

            “Probably. Oh, and no less than five different tribes from your part of the world.”

            “…is one of them mine?”

            “Not yet, but I expect that, as soon as your father hears, he’ll be kicking in our front door to shove his name to the top of the list.”

            “In other words, our honeymoon is threatening to become an international incident.”

            “That’s about the long and short of it, babe.”

            “…this is insane.”

            “I agree.”

            “ _Gods…_ anything else?”

            “Well, there is the matter of how the chiefs of the Aleut and Chukcha tribes got into a fistfight when they found out that both of their daughters were under consideration to become ladies-in-waiting.”

            “I knew about that one, actually. I’ve told Sokka to smooth it out.”

            “Excellent. Now, about this honeymoon thing…”

            “Zuko, let me make something clear: I’ve been dreaming of this honeymoon for _years_ now. I’ve planned it down to the minute. I’ve completely remodeled that old estate to be our home-away-from-home for the rest of our lives. I am _not_ giving that up just so we can spend our honeymoon hoping from one gods-damn diplomatic circle-jerk to another just to please the rest of the world. I will not compromise on this, Zuko. _I won’t.”_

“Trust me, I’m well aware.”

            “Then why do I need to come to the Privy Council meeting?”

            “Because they’re more afraid of you than they are of me.”

            “…does the diplomatic corps feel the same way?”

            “Probably.”

            “…let’s go.”

            “Lead the way.”

*** * * * ***

            _Excerpt from the Miyako Times:_

_…After the opening benedictions, His Grace the Prime Minister the Lord Iroh gave a short statement to the press corps, denying rumors that Her Grace the Fire Mistress – soon to become Her Majesty – the Lady Katara called the diplomatic corps together and gave them some sort of verbal tongue-lashing. Similar statements were made by the governments stated to have had their representatives berated by Her Grace the Fire Mistress. At present, no one can definitively say where such rumors began, and this writer believes that said rumors are just that, baseless stories._

_After a fielding a few questions regarding said statement, His Grace the Prime Minister continued with the press conference, beginning with…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun! Man, we've had, like, a nice long string of fun prompts, haven't we? Sure hope I'm not setting you up for anything...
> 
> *quietly brushes my entire body of work thus far under a rug, snickers*
> 
> Anyhoo, this is definitely a piece that can be read two ways, either as a follow-up to A Different Path, or as a standalone bit. I leave it entirely up to you guys how to proceed. Today, we return to form, because there's a longer, more comprehensive AN attached to this story on FF.net (under kangaroo2010), along with "A Different Path," if you're so inclined. You can also find this on Tumblr, as well as follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> That's really all that needs to be said about this little bit. In tomorrow's episode, we reach the finale of the trilogy begun in Drunk and continued in Lullaby, as Zuko reflects that the plan was perfect...right up until it fell apart. Stay tuned!


	21. Unravel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan was perfect, right up until it wasn't, right up until everything began to unravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final installment of the trilogy begun by "Drunk" and continued by "Lullaby." If you haven't read those yet, I highly recommend that you do.

**Unravel**

_THE FIRST NIGHT I SPENT THE NIGHT WITH HER WAS ALSO THE FIRST NIGHT I MET HER, THE FIRST NIGHT I SAW HER. There was nothing strange to it, nothing sexual; she just didn’t want to go back to her room. **The girls on these trade missions and such are always having flings with locals,** she said as they walked back to my room from the little hole-in-the-wall bar we’d had a few drinks in, **especially Water Tribe girls, and Jet’s too drunk to try again, so no one will notice.** I attempted to lighten the mood by making a crack about how **it’s always the quiet, buttoned down ones you have to look out for.** The joke fell flat, because I suck at telling jokes, but she giggled anyways, slid an arm through mine as we walked. I appreciated that, the slight giggle. I’ve had girls pretend I was funny before, but never a girl simply acknowledge that my hackneyed attempts at humor are little more than amusing. I liked it. I liked her. _

_I sensed the danger even then._

_Nothing happened that night. She slept in the bed, curled up, wearing my other jacket and a pair of my boxers. I slept in the chair I’d left by the window, chair leaned back, feet propped up on the sill. It was bizarrely comfortable._

_In the morning, before she left, she told me she’d never met someone who slept as quietly as I did._

*** * * * ***

            _Today is The Day._ Zuko stood at the open window, one hand curled on the sill, fingers opening and closing compulsively. The other hand brought a cigarette to his lips. He took a deep drag, held it, let the smoke curl from his mouth and nostrils. His entire body was alive, thrumming with nervous energy that crackled like lightning from one nerve ending to another. It was a marvel that he wasn’t trembling, assuming that he hadn’t just lost the ability to notice.

            The view from the window was the same as that first glimpse on a cold winter afternoon. Eight days had passed, and nothing seemed to have changed. His entire life had been turned upside down, but the world outside his window seemed to have taken not the slightest bit of notice. The same rundown apartment blocks, the same dilapidated store fronts, the same dogs barking, dogs that he had, now that he thought about it, never actually _seen_.

            Nothing had changed.

            _Everything had changed._

_**Everything.**_

Her smell lingered in the crisp, cool air. He wondered if he would still feel her warmth, should he press his palm into the bed. Her voice hummed in his ears, soft and gentle, yet hard and unyielding as ice-cold steel. He closed his eyes, shut out the world that seemed content to ignore him, _as it always has, as it always will,_ and it was like she was still there, had not left an hour before. The feel of her in his arms, the contrast of her darkness against his pale skin, the hair cascading like a waterfall down her back, the eyes as blue and as deep as the ocean that she could feel in her soul, the firm set of her jaw, the implacable determination that radiated from every fiber of her being.

            Her name, the name he knew he would never forget, just as he would never forget the lullabies she hummed as she washed her hair in the shower.

            _Katara._

He took a final drag from his cigarette, tossed the spent butt out the window, opened his eyes in time to watch the dying ember twist down into the winter gloom of the world outside his window. He let the smoke out, gave himself a shake, slammed the window closed, turned his back on the world and on his rambling mind.

            He set his shoulders, began to gather his things.

            _Time to get to work._

*** * * * ***

            _The second night started much like the first. I waited for her in the lobby of her hotel, openly, without fear, hiding in plain sight. **Nothing to see here,** I communicated, sitting in a random chair, flipping through a Fire Nation paper. **Just a temporary boyfriend, a business-trip fling, waiting for his girl.** I wasn’t even the only one of my kind lounging around, though I was the most relaxed; the others seemed fixated upon their watches. I pitied them. My girl was better than theirs._

_My girl would never keep me waiting, not if she could help it._

_Katara would never keep anyone waiting that mattered to her._

_Katara greeted me openly, too, hiding in plain sight just as much as I was. I stood up when she entered with a gaggle of other girls attached to the trade mission, returned her embrace, returned her friendly kiss. That was our first kiss._

_Our first kiss._

_The first sign that I might be in trouble._

_Everything went much the same as before from there. I walked up her up to her room, camped in a chair by the window while she changed, my eyes on the windows of other buildings, endlessly searching, endlessly watching, looking for someone like me, another low-level spy, someone on the prowl for someone like them, another cog in the endless game._

_I found no one, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t there._

_We went out for dinner and drinks, caught a movie, walked arm-in-arm through a park, our breath misting in the air. I laughed more than I had laughed in years, smiled in a way I didn’t know was possible. She was light, easy, carefree, but always, in the corners of her eyes, a brittleness, a fear, a worry, a calmness that came over her being whenever she looked over her shoulder and tried to pretend she was doing no such thing._

_She slept in my room that night, too, in my bed. I slept in the chair once more. Neither of us got much sleep, though._

_We were too busy talking, too busy smiling, too busy laughing._

*** * * * ***

            Before Katara had left his motel room, Zuko had given her his knife. It was a simple little thing, a plain switchblade, no different from thousands of its brethren that could be found in countless little nooks and crannies all over the world. It was a sign, he thought, of the seriousness of the game they were playing, that, though she was a skilled waterbender, she had taken the knife without question, slipped it into her purse, kissed him deeply before she floated out the door.

            Though it was a necessary step to take, both for her and for his own sanity, giving Katara his knife had left Zuko unarmed. Firebender or no, he had to be prepared for any possibility. If he had to fight in the open, firebending would do, but what if he had to fight in a crowd, or in a building, or in a tiny room? Firebending was all well and good for war and industry, but it was as dangerous to oneself as it was to others in the up-close-and-personal world that Zuko lived in. Thus, he needed something more.

            Two things more. He needed a knife, and he needed a gun.

            The knife was easy. He took the bus into one of the grittier parts of town, walked up to a random drug dealer loitering on a corner, and offered the kid three-hundred _won_ for the knife Zuko did not doubt the kid had tucked in a pocket. The kid had snarled and sworn, accused Zuko of being a cop, started to walk away, so Zuko had offered four-hundred _won._ The kid had stopped in his tracks, turned on a _sen_ , and asked for five-hundred. Zuko told the kid to go fuck himself and started to walk away. The kid came back with four-fifty, Zuko stuck to four-hundred, the kid came down to four-twenty-five, Zuko chuckled and forked over the cash. What he got was another hideously sharp little switchblade, worth barely a quarter of what Zuko had paid for it, but then again, Zuko hadn’t paid for the knife; he’d paid for a weapon that didn’t come with a receipt and a sales record attached to it. In short, it was clean, marginally legal, untraceable, and easily discarded.

            In short, perfect, and easily worth the price.

            The gun was a bit harder. The Service had its connections, of course, its reliable providers of quasi-legal firearms for tolerable prices, perfect for the agent who found themselves in a bind, but Zuko couldn’t go to them, could he? He’d already told the Service too much, could feel it in his bones, tickling at the back of his mind. He was playing a risky game, was probably in over his head, could hear his sister’s voice blaring in his ears, _the fuck did you get yourself into now, Zu-Zu, always jumping without looking ahead._ The normal dealers were out; he would have to poke around, take another risk.

            In the end, after three fruitless hours of searching and wandering, he resorted to the same tactic that had fetched him his new knife. He walked up to a drug dealer, asked for a gun. The dealer laughed in his face, until Zuko pulled out a thousand _yen._ The Fire Nation _yen_ was worth twice the Republic _won,_ and four times the Earth Kingdom _yuan,_ so it was an easy decision for the kid to make. Three-thousand _yen_ later, Zuko had a gun, two clips, and the first step was complete.

            Now, he just had to get downtown without making it look like that was where he was headed.

*** * * * ***

            _The third night, everything changed. During the day, I had dropped in at the Service safe-house, wired **No Sale** on the Jet thing back home, but mentioned, in the same message, that I might have a lead on something better. While I waited for a reply, I used the secure phone line to call my sister. I told her that I’d met a girl, decided to stay a week or two, have some fun. She’d laughed. **About time, Zu-Zu,** she said, and I could just see the self-satisfied smirk on her face. **Finally decided to take your little sister’s advice, eh?**_

**_Something like that,_ ** _I said, and then we chatted for a bit until the teletype machine began to chatter and we exchanged hurried goodbyes and I rang off. I tore the incoming message, decoded it myself, nodded, smiled._

_**Freedom to pursue lead granted. Proceed with caution. Access to station resources renewed. Good hunting. Your Uncle says hello.**_

**** _I chuckled at that last bit. Azula must’ve given Uncle a heads-up. It made sense; she worked in the same building from which he ran the Service, after all, but whatever, it didn’t matter. I was clear to enjoy myself, and who knows? Maybe my instinct on Katara was right; maybe she did have treasure._

_She did. That night, she wanted to go straight back to my room. That’s when she told me she knew what I was. That’s when she told me that she wanted out._

_**I trust you,** she said. **I don’t know why, but I trust you, and you’re going to help me.**_

**** _I agreed. What else could I do?_

*** * * * ***

            The plan was simple. Zuko would loiter around downtown Republic City through the afternoon, take in the sights, act like a bored tourist. Katara’s last act of business with the trade delegation ended at three, and her flight home was going to leave at ten the next morning. There was a final function, a kind of banquet/end-of-trip-party starting at five, but she was going to skip it, come meet Zuko instead. It wasn’t an unusual thing to do, for the younger members of such a delegation to skip the last shindig and go out on the town instead, so she wouldn’t be missed. She had a few friends, had let them in _the tall, dark, and handsome boy_ she had met, covered her escape in an air of giggles. She was supposed to meet Zuko in the central square of the city at four-thirty.

            That would be the next step.

*** * * * ***

            _It was the fourth night that it happened. We went straight back to my room again; neither of us planned it ahead of time, didn’t even discuss it. We felt too exposed, out there in the glowering world. On a whim, I’d stocked up on beer from the liquor store around the corner, and we sat on my bed, laughing and talking, knocking back beers, sharing cigarettes, scrapping cheap take-out from flimsy white boxes. I don’t remember what we talked about; we just talked. Talked and laughed and tried to ignore the path we were walking down._

_I don’t know who kissed whom first. I suppose, in the end, it doesn’t matter. The kiss was for real this time, not some quick peck for show in her hotel lobby. We kissed and then we were tumbling and falling and I was lost and she was lost with me._

_Afterwards, I worried, apologized for taking advantage of her. She rolled her eyes and kissed me and told me that, if anything, **she** was the one taking advantage of **me.** She laughed and I couldn’t help but laugh with her and then we kissed and one thing led to another and we were falling all over again._

_Neither of us got much sleep that night._

*** * * * ***

            Zuko had abandoned much of his gear and belongings by the time he reached downtown around two in the afternoon. He carried little more than a backpack and a tourist brochure that he willfully brandished, making sure to accost random passersby with mangled Hangugeo, his one good eye wide, looking lost and stupid, a lone Fire Nation dork stumbling through a poorly planned vacation. There were thousands like him out that day, taking in the sights, and he blended seamlessly among them.

            He had the backpack slung from one shoulder, not the backpack he’d arrived with, a new one, different. Inside was a change of clothes, an envelope thick with money, two tickets for a flight to Miyako at six-thirty, and two new passports. One was for him, Fire Nation, made out to one _Kawana Tengo,_ and the other was for Katara, identifying her as his wife, one _Kawana Nerrivik._ It was Southern Water Tribe, complete with a Fire Nation permanent resident card. Even the entry and exit stamps were authentic; every year, one of the Station’s agents bribed a Republic Customs officer for that year’s new stamp dispenser.

            Zuko didn’t like to think about how much he’d had to reveal to the Service to get those passports, so, instead, he focused on his role. For better or for worse, downtown Republic City wasn’t hard on the eyes, and had many things to gaze at. He even spent a good half-hour listening to a busker sawing on a fiddle at a random street corner, tossed the man a few coins.

            His hand didn’t tremble as he tossed the coins. Zuko was very proud of that.

*** * * * ***

            _On the fifth day, after Katara left, I went straight to the Station. I demanded a meeting with the Head-of-Station, threw my name around, leaned on my family connections in a way I never had before. The Head-of-Station was a rotund, short little idiot named Ushikawa, and he protested most strenuously, pointed out that I had yanked him out of a meeting with the Ambassador himself. I waved the objections aside, told him it was serious, that I had a defector on the hook who possessed information, vital information._

_**How vital?** Ushikawa said, mopping sweat from his brow. It wasn’t hot, but the man was always sweating, it was one of the things he was known for._

_**Vital to the survival and safeguarding of the Service,** I said, standing at my full height, glowering down at him, using every single one of the good dozen centimeters I had on the man._

_Somehow, it worked. He gulped, asked me what I meant. I told him, as little as I could, just enough to communicate just how serious the matter was. He got on the Red Line to the Homeland, asked to speak to Uncle, though of course Ushikawa didn’t refer to him as such, instead asked for **the Chief.** I told my uncle the same bare-bones story that I’d told Ushikawa. Somehow, I got the point across. Uncle agreed that I needed to get this defector out, as soon as was humanly possible. He even greenlighted the passports, had Ushikawa pull the templates from the Station’s stockpile of legit escape documents, kept for situations just like the one I was in._

_I remember feeling so thankful to Uncle. I’d never been more proud of my people, of my family, of the Service. I couldn’t stop smiling that night, as Katara and I lay in bed, wrapped up and entangled with each other, was practically vibrating with excitement._

_The excitement was infectious. The next morning, Katara left humming a jaunty, happy little tune._

_I hummed that damn tune for the rest of the gods-damn day._

*** * * * ***

            It was around four that Zuko began to feel that something was wrong. He didn’t know what it was, couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was off. _Something._ It felt like he and Katara were a thread, and that thread was slowly, inexorably unraveling. Something had gone sideways. He didn’t know what it was, couldn’t even begin to guess it, but he knew it.

            Knew it down in his very _bones._

He acted quickly. He went to a public bathroom, locked himself into a stall. From his backpack, he pulled his illicitly bought gun, made sure it was loaded, checked the safety. He stood in the stall, shoved the gun in the waistband of his jeans, made sure it was snug in the small of his back, pulled his coat down over it, patted the coat to make sure there was no tell-tale bulge. Into his right coat pocket, he shoved his new knife, laid it in the pocket in a way that he could pull it out quick, easy, without having it snag on anything. He returned the backpack to his shoulder, hung it from both of them, so it wouldn’t bounce around too much if he had to fight, had to run. He took several deep breaths, in-and-out, in-and-out, closed his eyes, muttered bending _mantras_ under his breath. He set his feet, found his roots, focused, felt the heat build, first in his chest, felt the tendrils of flame crawl through his blood and down into his hands, felt the tingle of the heat in his fingers.

            He opened his eyes, took a final breath, in-and-out, and nodded.

            He was ready.

            He took his time at the sink, washed his hands carefully, turning the water on hot so it wouldn’t steam against his heated hands. He took a wool beanie from his back pocket, pulled it low over his head. It would make him feel even warmer than he already was, but it would also keep his head from steaming in the cold winter air outside, so it was worth it.

            He went outside, calm and cool and collected. He didn’t rush towards the rendezvous point, didn’t hurry. He took slow, easy steps. He didn’t look left, didn’t look right. He relied on his ears, on his senses, on his peripheral vision.

            He made his way across the central square to a big central fountain. The fountain was dead, turned off for the winter, but it was the meeting point. He found the right spot, leaned against it, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His right hand was curled around the knife, and the cold steel of the gun glimmered as dark as hate from the small of his back.

            He breathed slow and steady, slowly turning his head first this way, then that. He was just another random guy, waiting for someone, looking for said someone, who it was, didn’t matter.

            That’s all he was.

            _Honest._

Like the best kind of lies, it was almost entirely true.

*** * * * ***

            _On the eighth night, the last night, Katara asked me what would happen, once we got back to the Fire Nation, once she had shared her secret, once everything was over._

_**I don’t know,** I admitted, because I just couldn’t lie to her, she even knew my real name by now. **Whatever happens, though, I’ll be right beside you, no matter what.**_

**** _She nodded, took that in. She was nestled into my side, her finger tracing lazy patterns on my chest._

_**Promise?** she asked._

_I kissed the top of her head. **Promise.**_

**** _I meant that word more than I’ve ever meant anything in my entire life._

_She believed me._

*** * * * ***

            Zuko saw her coming towards him from across the square, but he couldn’t believe it. Or maybe he didn’t want to. Or both. Or neither. It didn’t matter, in the end, because she was there, walking towards him, hands shoved deep in her own pockets, cold city wind ruffling the jet black hair she had piled in the signature tight bun atop her head, thick locks framing her face. She was coming towards him, not smiling, not looking left, not looking right, the same expression on her face as she’d worn at their mother’s funeral. She was coming, and then she was stopping, stopping right in front of him, looking up at him, and she was trying to smile, a smile full of pain and sorrow and sadness, the smile they’d given each other far too many times over the course of their lives.

            But he still couldn’t believe it, right up until she opened her mouth and said his name.

            “Hey, Zuko.”

            His heart broke, broke into a thousand pieces and fell to the ground, blown away into oblivion by the wind. It was gone, never to be retrieved. It was over.

            He had been betrayed.

            He had lost.

            _Again._

“What’re you doing here, Azula?” He frowned at his voice; it didn’t sound normal. Didn’t sound _right._ It was wrong, just like _everything_ was wrong.

            _Everything._

His sister took a deep breath, let it out, let a hand wander up to brush a few strands of hair from her face, tuck them behind her ears. “I think you know exactly why I’m here, Zuko.”

            He closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe it.

            _He refused to believe it._

“I…no, Zula, I don’t think I do.”

            A heavy sigh, and he felt his sister move to his side, slide an arm through his own, lay her head on his shoulder.

            “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Zu-Zu. I know…” A pause, another breath, one that sounded like it hurt her almost as much as it hurt him. “I know you were just trying to help, trying to do the right thing, just like you always do, but…”

            He screwed his eyes even tighter shut. _No,_ he whispered in his mind, **_no._** _I won’t believe it. I won’t. **I refuse to.**_

            “Just…” His sister paused, struggled for words, it was so unlike her, _he_ was the one who never knew what to say, not _her._ “Again, _for what it’s worth,_ the girl was telling the truth.”

            “What?” It was all he could think to say.

            “There is a mole, right at the top of the Service, feeding the crown jewels to the Opposition. She was telling the complete, unvarnished truth.”

            He nodded. He couldn’t think of what else to do with his body. The heat was dying in his limbs, in his heart, _in his soul._ The fire was almost gone.

            “But…” He paused, gave himself a shake, still refused to open his eyes. “But…then why are you here? Why isn’t Katara? Where is she?”

            There was a long pause, as deep and painful and loud as the end of the world, before his sister answered him.

            “Because…because the mole _has_ to be there. It’s part of the control, the way the Avatar maintains the Balance. The mole reports directly to the Avatar, and then the Avatar passes along whatever they deem fit to the other side. There’s someone just like that in the Earth Kingdom’s secret service, too.”

            His eyes were burning, burning with tears he refused to shed, both eyes, even the dead one that hadn’t cried since he was fifteen-years-old.

            “But…but…but _why?_ That still doesn’t…but… _where’s Katara, Zula?”_

“She’s…when you talked to Uncle, told him about the information you had, he knew exactly what you had found out. Any nation that tries to remove the Avatar’s minions from within their government and their services would be seen as _acting to upset the Balance,_ and would be punished by the entire world accordingly, by the Avatar themselves. He did what he had to do, for the Fire Nation, for our people. The Avatar is at the top of their strength right now, the top of their power; it’ll be _decades_ before it’s time for the nations to start really moving against each other again. So…so Uncle…”

            Zuko didn’t need to hear the rest; deep down inside, he suspected that he’d always known. “Uncle… _Uncle went to the mole, and the mole sold Katara out.”_

He didn’t have to see the nod to know it was there. “She’s gone, Zuko. They took her as she was coming to meet you. It’s over. Come home.”

            Finally, he opened his eye. He tore himself away from his sister, and the abject misery on her face did nothing to assuage his anger, his guilt…

            _His pain…_

_“But…but…how can I come home?”_

Azula wouldn’t look him in the eye, looked everywhere but at his face.

            “Uncle cut a deal, Zu-Zu. Just…just come with me, come straight home, let _me_ save _you_ for once, and this will all be forgotten.”

            That was the word that got him, that last word, like a rock dropped into an empty well.

            _Forgotten._

*** * * * ***

            _On the final morning, Katara paused at the door. She turned to me, kissed me deeply, more deeply than she’d ever kissed me before. We were both breathless by the end of it._

_**What was that for?** I asked her._

_She smiled, and it was the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen in my life._

_**So you’ll never forget me. Just…no matter what happens, promise me that, okay? Promise that you’ll never forget me.**_

**** _I didn’t even have to think about it._

_**Never.**_

*** * * * ***

            He was walking away before he even knew what was happening, had even managed to think about what he was doing. He turned on his heel and started walking. He didn’t even remember making the decision.

            But then again, it wasn’t like there was a decision to make, was there? He’d already made his choice.

            _He’d already made his promise._

He only looked back once, when his sister caught up to him, grabbed his arm as he started to drop the backpack and the gun and the knife into a convenient trash can. He looked back at her, over his shoulder, ignored her fingers digging into his arm.

            “Zu-Zu,” she pleaded, tears in her eyes, “don’t do this, _please,_ it’ll be alright, just… _just come home with me, okay?_ You saved me when we were kids, from Dad, and now I…I can…just… _just don’t do this…”_

He smiled. He didn’t know why, or how, but he smiled all the same.

            “It’s not a choice, Zula. I have to do the right thing.”

            She smiled, and the smile broke his heart.

            “ _Of course you do…_ just…why, Zu-Zu? Uncle’s going to ask me. Just tell me _why_.”

            He shook his head. “If you have to ask, you’ll never know.” He gave her a final kiss on her forehead, and when he pulled his arm free, she didn’t resist, and didn’t follow him.

            They took him a half-hour later.

*** * * * ***

            _They shot us together. I was very thankful to them for that. They seemed to think it was some kind of joke, and they had themselves a good laugh, but we didn’t care. Katara and I held each other in the back of the truck, walked hand-in-hand out into the open field, joked with each other as we dug our own grave. They even let us dig one grave, for the both of us, another thing they thought was funny, but we were just thankful._

_We stood side-by-side at the foot of the pit, listened to the guns being loaded and cocked behind us. We were holding each other’s hands so tight, I could barely feel my fingers anymore._

_**I love you, Zuko,** she said, gazing up at me with a smile on her face._

_**Always have to be first, don’t you?** I replied, why, I didn’t know, the words just came to me, like I’d said them before, who knows, maybe I had._

_**Always.** She leaned over, gave me a light, lingering kiss, setting off another round of laughter from our executioners. **Maybe next time.**_

**** _I shook my head and smiled. **There’ll be no maybe about it, my love.**_

**_Never could give in, could you?_ **

**_Never._ **

**** _They shot her first, probably another one of their jokes, but it was okay, because they didn’t make me wait long._

_I didn’t even feel the bullet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, that happened. And, for once, you guys can't say I didn't warn you. I said that this little AU was going to end in a hardcore gut-punch, and oh boy howdy did I deliver. 
> 
> I'm actually ridiculously happy with how this turned out. Out of all the prompts I've written so far for Zutara Month, this was the hardest one to write. I must've stopped and started the damn thing a dozen times, and when I finally managed to put it together today, I had to spend several hours trying to get it down until it met my personal requirement of being less than five-thousand words. And then, lo and behold, I pulled the fucking thing off, and I'm feeling like I hit a home run. *does a little dance around the apartment*
> 
> Anyhoo, that is, really, all that needs to be said about that, I think. This is definitely a story that speaks for itself. Instead, I'm going to let my wife read this (she's been bugging me all day to get this done), and then, you know, I think we should go out and grab a drink or three. I'm feeling a little stir-crazy tonight.
> 
> Oh, and before I forget, you can, as usual, scope this out on FF.net, as well as on Tumblr, in addition to which you can bug me personally through my Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, I decide to take part in the ridiculous number of Star Wars-themed prompts popping up for Zutara Month this year and take advantage of the fact that lightsabers are pretty boss at illuminating things. Stay tuned!


	22. Illuminated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep in the shadows, they stood together, the light against the darkness, just as they always had, just as they always would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally, a "Star Wars" crossover, because even I couldn't resist.

**Illuminated**

“DAMN.”

            Beside him, little more than a shadow in the darkness, Katara nodded. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

            The weight in his arms shifted, the little girl pulling her face out of his neck just enough to ask in the voice of the terrified six-year-old that she was, “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

            Zuko’s heart trembled at the word. _Daddy._ That was what Korra called him now. _Daddy._ Zuko was _Daddy_ and Katara was _Mommy_ and that was all that mattered to Korra. The little girl didn’t know who her birth parents were, no one did, Master Luke had found her two years before and given her to Zuko and Katara and told them to take care of her. _This little girl is important,_ Master Luke had said. _Guard her with your life._

            Zuko bit down on a defeated sigh. _We tried. Oh, gods, did we try._

Slowly, carefully, he broke Korra’s grip, unwrapped her arms from around his neck, set her down on the ground. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, found the glow-stick, cracked it, held the stick to Korra’s face and tried not to break as the dull green glow lit up the blue eyes big as saucers and glistening with unshed tears. He put on a brave face, the best he could manage, smiled at the little girl, watched her smile back, _she always smiles back, she doesn’t give a damn about my scar._

            “There’s absolutely nothing wrong, sweetheart,” he said, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Mommy and Daddy just got a little lost is all.”

            Korra nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she rubbed her nose on her sleeve. “Oh, okay…” She took a deep breath, let it out, drew herself up, trying to look serious, _adult._ “Are you going to get us un-lost?”

            He kept the smile plastered to his face, even as his eye looked up over Korra’s head and watched Katara, holding her own glow-stick, walked around the edges of the room they had stumbled their way into. Katara kept walking, running her fingers along the cold, barren stone, her eyes sliding to Zuko’s, her head giving a subtle shake even as she said, “Of course we are, sweetheart. Mommy and Daddy just need a moment to catch their breath and get their bearings.”

            Zuko’s eye went back to Korra, who gave another childish little nod, wiped her nose again. “We did run a lot…”

            Zuko chuckled, standing up and shaking the stiffness from his legs. “Yes, sweetheart, we did.” From up above, somewhere out there in the darkness, there came the dull _crump_ of an explosion, felt as much as heard in the vibrations rippling through the darkness and the stone that enclosed them, surrounded them, _doomed them._ Zuko didn’t have to see what was happening to know what that _crump_ meant. He had seen it with his own eye, just a moment before, or an hour, or a day, it didn’t matter, it all felt the same. The endless cacophony of the blasters, the _thrum_ of the drop-ships roaring down in endless waves, the lightsabers of his friends slowly, one-by-one, winking out into oblivion.

            _Sokka’s voice, as he shoved us down into the catacombs. **Run,** he said, eyes wide with fear. **Try to get her out of here. We’ll hold them off.**_

He looked at Katara once more, and the way she brushed a thumb first under one eye, then the other, told him she was thinking of the same things.

            He reached down, ruffled Korra’s hair. “How about a nap?”

            Korra frowned, her lips curling in the kind of disdain only a six-year-old was truly capable of. “A _nap…?”_

Katara giggled as she crouched down at Korra’s side, pulling the little girl into a tight side-hug. “Absolutely! You know how much more running we’re going to have to do?”

            Korra made another face. “Well…okay…will you and Daddy take a nap with me?”

            Katara buried her face in Korra’s hair before Korra could see the tears, but not quick enough to hide them from Zuko. “Of _course_ we’ll take a nap with you. Here,” she continued, pressing her glow-stick into Korra’s free hand, “you can hold that for me. How about we go over in the corner?”

            Korra turned to the corner, looking decidedly unconvinced. “But…it’s dark and it’s cold…”

            Zuko fought down a shiver. _She’s right about that._ “Psh,” he said, batting the objection aside. “Nothing a couple Jedi can’t handle!”

            That seemed to settle it for Korra. They settled down in the corner, just the three of them, Korra nestled between them, Zuko and Katara’s arms around each other, forming a little cocoon, a soft, safe, warm spot in the gathering night. Korra nestled and burrowed and squirmed, but in the end, as Zuko had known she would, she fell asleep.

            Zuko and Katara did not.

*** * * * ***

            “Zuko…?”

            He smiled, turned his head to press a soft kiss into the top of Katara’s head. “Yes…?”

            “I…I’m sorry…”

            He frowned. “For what?” They spoke in whispers, hushed voices barely distinguishable from the ominous silence filtering down from the temple above. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who got us lost…”

            He didn’t have to see the smirk to know it was there. “You didn’t get us _lost,_ Zuko; no one’s been this deep in the catacombs for centuries. It’s a wonder we didn’t walk right off a cliff.”

            He leaned his head back against the stone, wincing at the cold. “It was worth a try, though…”

            “Yes, yes it was…but…that’s not what I’m sorry about…”

            “Katara, what in all the universe could you _possibly_ be sorry about?”

            “I…I never thanked you…”

            “For what…?”

            “For saving me from the Dark Side…I came here, burning with the need for vengeance, to wrap my hands around the world that took my mother from me and make it pay, _to make everyone pay,_ and, you… _you saved me from that…”_

It was impossible for Zuko to put into words how those words made him feel. His heart swelled in his chest until it felt like he was going to burst. His throat was suddenly hot, raspy, his tongue thick and dead in a mouth as dry as Tatooine. He screwed his eye shut, his one good, remaining eye, the only eye left to him after his father saw fit to punish his weakness with fire and pain, and he saw Katara as she was when he first met her, when Uncle brought him to the temple and asked Master Luke to train him. She had been full of anger then, full of hate and more fear than she would ever have admitted to anyone, fear of failure, _fear of not being worth her mother’s sacrifice._

_Just like me…_

“It’s only fair,” he said, how he managed to form the words, how he was able to force them past the sharp, scalding hot lump in his throat, he didn’t know, suspected he never would. “You saved me from the Dark Side, too, after all. Saved me from the pain, the hate, the rage…”

            A hand came out of the darkness, came to rest in Korra’s lap, atop the glow-sticks the little girl was clutching fiercely in her sleep. Zuko didn’t even think. He took the hand, looked up and into Katara’s eyes.

            _The most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen…_

“I love you, Zuko. I always have, and I always will.”

            “I love you, too, Katara, until the end.”

            “And beyond that?”

            “Through whatever comes after.”

            They kissed, while Korra slept and footsteps began to echo in the endlessly winding tunnels of the catacombs up above.

*** * * * ***

            By the time the footsteps reached them, they were on their feet. Korra slumbered on, lost in dreams, while Zuko and Katara stood in front of her, backs to the wall, the dull green light of Korra’s two glow-sticks making ethereal, otherworldly shadows quiver against the stone that surrounded them.

            The footsteps came closer, slow, steady, confident, and he reached out for her hand and her hand was already coming for his and their fingers entwined and they held on tight.

            “I was wondering when I’d find you, _Zu-Zu._ ”

            “I was starting to worry about that, _Zula._ ” He marveled at his voice, so calm, so collected, so free of the fear that was digging its ice-cold fingers into his heart.

            “We were beginning to think you’d never make it,” Katara observed, giving his hand a squeeze.

            Azula’s shadow shrugged, and Zuko could practically _feel_ the disdainful _sneer_ twisting across her face. “Well, in my defense, your little _friends_ put up far more of a fight than I would’ve expected.”

            “Glad we could disappoint you,” Katara snapped, and Zuko’s heart swelled with pride.

            Azula laughed, a hollow, horrid thing that stood the hairs on the back of Zuko’s neck on edge. “Fair enough…so,” she continued, and somehow, Zuko didn’t need the light to see, he knew she was unsnapping her lightsabers from her belt, “this would normally be where I tried to convince one or the both of you to give up, _come over to the Dark Side,_ but I have a feeling I already know what you’d say to _that._ ”

            “I’d tell you to go get bent,” Zuko snarled, giving Katara’s hand a final squeeze before letting go, his now free hand floating to the lightsaber dangling from his waist.

            Azula’s shadow nodded, and the world exploded into a blood-red glow as she ignited both of her lightsabers at once. “I wish I could say that I was surprised. You always did have too much of the Light within you, even after Father tried to burn it out.”

            “What can I say,” Zuko replied, crouching down into an attack posture as he ignited his own lightsaber, “I’m nothing if not stubborn.”

            Another laugh, like a demon giggling from the grave, and one of the red lightsaber blades pointed at Katara. “What about you, _my brother’s oh-so-not-secret-wife?_ Anything to add?”

            Katara’s lightsaber hissed into life, the bright blue of the blade illuminating a face set with determination, free of fear. “I’ll save it for your eulogy.”

            “ _Nice._ Well,” the red sabers twirled, leaving the smell of charred ozone in their wake, “are we going to talk all day, or are we going to dance?”

            There was nothing left to say, so no one said a word. Red-and-red moved to meet green-and-blue, deep down in the darkness, where the light, though dim, will never go out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That, ladies and gentlemen, was all kinds of fun. I mean, yeah, sure, it ends on a bit of a downer note, but only if you assume that ambiguous ending automatically means downer ending. Personally, I like to think that Zuko and Katara win, because in the end, the Light always wins out over the Dark, no matter how deep the shadows grow or how weakly the stars glimmer in the night.
> 
> Huh...that was poetic as fuck. I should write that down... *does so*
> 
> Not really much to add. I'm ridiculously happy with how this turned out, and even more pleased that the story stands on its own so nicely, because, come on, does Star Wars really need elaboration? Besides, I haven't taken a shower yet, and the wife and I should probably try to accomplish something today before we got meet up with some peeps later tonight.
> 
> As is traditional, you can find this story on FF.net, though this time, the AN there is the same as the one here. You can also find it on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, we return to the Cop/Doctor AU, as a pregnant Katara endures an awkward trip back home. Stay tuned!


	23. Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara was very happy to be on her way to being a mother, but, all things being equal, she'd really like her damn baby now, please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another installment of the Cop/Doctor AU, previously seen in "Secret Lovers," "Wedding," "Forbidden," and "Complementary."
> 
> Today's story is dedicated to my lovely mother, from whose experience with pregnancy I draw today's story.

**Pregnancy**

 “SO, WHAT’S IT LIKE?”

            Katara frowned at the paperwork that littered her work station. She was reasonably sure that said paper hadn’t suddenly grown sentient and started speaking, but then again, she was five-months’ pregnant and severely caffeine deprived, so she wasn’t fully prepared to swear against such a possibility. It didn’t help that that day was an uncharacteristically slow one at Republic City General, which meant that she’d spent most of her time up to her elbows in backlogged paperwork, until her connection to reality was a bit on the flimsy side.

            “What’s what like?” she asked, frowning at the half-filled form that she had a pen poised over, daring it to speak again and confirm her sanity ( _or lack thereof)._

“Um…being pregnant. What’s that like?”

            Finally, the tumblers clicked in Katara’s head, and she managed to tear her gaze up from the paper-strewn work station and fix her attention upon Song, who was leaning against the station’s counter, her fingernails tapping a simple rhythm on her stethoscope. Katara gave herself a shake and pushed up and away from the paperwork, giving her sore back a much needed stretch and trying not to wince at the unfamiliar sensation of her protruding belly brushing against something.

            Katara shrugged, turning her neck this way and that, desperate to get out the kinks. “Well…um…to be honest, it kind of sucks.”

            Song stopped what she had been doing, her eyes going wide as saucers, a lock of abject horror on her face. “ _What?!_ How can…how can being pregnant _suck?!”_

Katara liked Song, liked her a lot, actually. They’d graduated in the same year from med school, had been friends since their first class freshman year, and Katara was even going to be a bridesmaid in Song’s upcoming nuptials. That said, though, she _was_ five-months’ pregnant ( _it really did bear repeating, why was Zuko the only one who seemed able to remember and take that into account?_ ), and her control over her emotions was not what it used to be.

            “Look,” Katara said, holding out the palm of one hand to stop the flow of shock and confusion she sensed building in Song, while the other she used to work on the knots developing in her lower back, _where’s my firebending husband and his heated hands when I need them,_ “I’m not saying that I’m not _happy_ to be pregnant, okay? I loved the process of _getting_ pregnant, I was so happy when I found out I’d _gotten_ pregnant that I’m shocked I didn’t drop dead of excitement, and I’m positively _giddy_ at the thought of the little baby girl I’m about to deliver.”

            Song’s shock faded as her eyes lit up in wonder. “You found out the gender?”

            Katara nodded, trying to banish the memory of how she’d burst into tears when the nurse turned the ultrasound monitor around so she and Zuko could see. “Yes, we did, but, yeah, all of that’s nice and all, but…no, being pregnant _blows._ ”

            Song’s face fell, her shoulders slumping in something akin to despair. “Oh…really…?”

            Katara immediately felt bad, a sensation heralded by sudden tears burning in the corners of her eyes. _Gods-damn fucking hormones,_ she silently snarled as she struggled to keep her evermore erratic emotions in check. _I am **so** ready to be done with this. _

“Okay,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose in an effort to stave off the ever-present headache she had these days, _because I can only have a half-strength cup of coffee once a freaking **day,** because the gods hate me, _“it’s not…I mean…it’s not the same for _everybody._ Like Yue, my sister-in-law? She’s a baby-making _machine,_ can pop them out like nobody’s business and actually _glows_ through the entire process. As for me, though…”

            Song, being the kind, thoughtful soul that she was, reached out and laid a comforting hand Katara’s shoulder. “Not so much…?”

            _No,_ Katara mentally groaned, _not so much. I spent the entire first trimester sick as a dog, and now that I’m coming up on the third trimester, I have to pee all the gods-damn time. My back hurts and my ankles hurt and I **still** get morning sickness all the damn time and I want a pot of strong black coffee and a bottle or three of wine but I fucking **can’t** and it’s almost impossible to get a decent night’s sleep because of all the freaking **peeing** I have to do nevermind this giant gut I’ve developed and I’m so gods-damn emotional that I burst into tears this morning because my favorite pair of scrubs has a stain that’s not at all bad and it can be easily fixed but I really wanted to wear those scrubs today and I couldn’t because I never got around to cleaning them because Zuko had to tear them out of my hands and hold me for a half-hour while I sobbed until I got hiccups and I just want this over you hear that gods I’m tired of being pregnant just give me my **gods-damn fucking beautiful little baby girl already that’s all I want GAH!**_

Out loud, though, Katara took a deep breath, let it out, and did her best to smile as she said, “Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.”

*** * * * ***

            Across Republic City, in an empty room on the fourth floor of a mostly abandoned building, a room whose windows just so happened to overlook one of the city’s seedier housing projects, two very bored cops sat atop turned over plastic barrels. One, Zuko Tazaki – husband of a Dr. Katara over at Republic City General – was holding a pair of binoculars to his eyes, while the other, his partner Suki Yin, was glaring at the big bulky camera in her hands as she idly fiddled with the camera’s strap. It was very hot, excruciatingly muggy, and outrageously boring.

            Hence, Suki’s observation: “I’m bored.”

            Zuko bit down on a yawn as he pulled the binoculars from his face so that he could rub his eyes. “Hey, don’t look at me, I’m not the one who volunteered us for an extra round of surveillance duty.”

            Suki shrugged. “Yeah, well, better than spending a week with those gods-awful headphones on our ears, listening to teenaged drug dealers have awkward phone sex.”

            Zuko chuckled. “True that.” A pause, and then, as inevitable as the sun following the moon in the sky, he said, “You think Katara’s alright?”

            Suki groaned and smacked a palm to her forehead. “For the love of…she’s not the first woman in human history to get pregnant, you know that, right?”

            Zuko made a face. “Yeah, well…she’d text me or call me if something was wrong, right?”

            Suki rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she would, Zuko, and even if she didn’t, she’s tough, she can take care of herself.”

            “Well, _yeah,_ I know _that,_ but still…hey!” He pulled out his cell phone, which seemed to have a text message.

            “Anything interesting?” Suki asked, because she knew her partner would tell her anyways.

            “I suppose. Katara is demanding that I pick up a big tub of ice cream on my way home today.”

            Suki smiled as she had an idea. “Let’s pick up two, and I’ll eat them with her.”

            “Oh! That’s a good idea! Let me text that to her real quick…”

            _Which,_ Suki reflected as her partner tapped away on his phone, _at least guarantees that I’ll accomplish something meaningful today, since it appears that it’s too hot to deal drugs in Republic City this afternoon._ Then Zuko started giggling at his phone and it was all she could do to resist the urge to roll her eyes so hard they’d run the risk of popping out of her skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit did I almost not get this up. Today's prompt ended up being a bitch to write, for reasons I don't fully understand, but there you go, life. In the end, though, I'm actually pretty chill with how it turned out. I mean, it's not my favorite entry so far, but it came out pretty solid, and I can't complain.
> 
> Not a long AN today (which I'm sure you're devastated about), but I will take a moment to mention that what I said up above is true: Katara's experience with pregnancy is drawn directly from the stories of my Mom. She hated being pregnant. Getting pregnant? Not bad. Finding out? With me, it was pretty scary (considering that she, sadly, had no doubt who the father was, and the less said about that waste of space, the better), but overall, exciting. The end result? She says it's been pretty awesome, though she would've sung a different tune when I was a teenager. Being pregnant itself, though? She hated it. Poor woman was miserable for nine months, and it didn't help that my Aunt Gloria - her older sister - was just like Yue in being one of those women who sails through pregnancy, no morning sickness, no outrageous weight gain, hardly any hormonal issues, nada. My Aunt Gloria popped out five kids like a champ. My Mom? Not so much.
> 
> Anyhoo, that's enough of that. The wife and I did all of our Christmas shopping today, and we're fucking exhausted, so we're going to crack open a bottle of wine, get in our PJs, call the dog up onto the couch, turn on some Netflix, and engage in some hardcore cuddling, because holy fuck are people crazy out there. Yeesh.
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, we continue in the Cop/Doctor AU by going right back to the very beginning, on day when two strangers, one a doctor named Katara, the other a cop named Zuko, first met. Stay tuned!


	24. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was really nice that they finally got a meet-cute, though why the girl named Katara thought that, she never really understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the Cop/Doctor AU, previously seen in "Secret Lovers," "Wedding," "Forbidden," "Complementary," and "Pregnancy."
> 
> This story is dedicated - as so many of my stories are - to my wife, with whom I had a genuine meet-cute and was just as much of a stuttering mess as Zuko is int his piece.

**Strangers**

“EXCUSE ME, MA’AM, BUT YOU WOULDN’T HAPPEN TO KNOW WHERE WE COULD FIND A DOCTOR…UM… _KATARA?_ ”

            For what felt to her like an _unreasonably large amount of time,_ Katara couldn’t quite figure out how to respond to that question. Indeed, as she frowned at the stack of medical charts in front of her, she wasn’t even entirely sure she had heard that correctly, or, indeed, heard _anything at all._ And who could blame her? _Exhausted_ didn’t _begin_ to do justice to how she felt just then. It was… _it was…_

She brushed some stray strands of hair off of her face, fiddling with her glasses as she checked her watch. _Gods, it’s…three, I think? Pretty close to three…_

_Three in the gods-damn morning. **Fuck me.** The next time Song begs me to take the overnight shift so she can eat dinner with her mother, I’m going to tell her to take that overnight shift and shove it right up her-_

“Um, excuse me…um…ma’am?”

            That was the final piece of evidence she needed that she wasn’t hallucinating. She tore her gaze away from the charts ( _which weren’t making much sense anyways; all the characters were beginning to blur together, and she was pretty sure some of them were starting to dance up and down the margins_ ) and looked up, pushing her glasses up her nose as she did so. What she saw made her frown anew, or, at least, she _thought_ she was frowning. With the level of exhaustion she was feeling, if she had, in fact, been leering like a loon, she would not have been in the least bit surprised.

            “Um…” She found herself fumbling for words. Here in Republic City, all of the languages of the world were present, but as a general rule, official business was conducted in Hangugeo, and in that moment, she was not entirely sure that she spoke Hangugeo anymore. She took a deep breath, gave herself a shake, and did her best to put on a helpful smile as the language she had been speaking almost exclusively for over five years finally came back to her tongue. “I’m sorry,” she continued, pushing herself up out of her chair and directing her attention at the two individuals who were standing on the other side of the counter, “it’s been a long night. Can I help you?”

            There were two of them, cops to be precise. They were dressed in the dark blue of the RCPD, their uniform peaked caps tucked neatly under their arms. They both looked about her age, around twenty-three, and they looked almost as worn out as she felt. The young man, who stood to Katara’s left, had dark circles under his golden eyes, dark circles that contrasted strongly with his short cropped, jet black hair, pale skin, and a network of what looked like deep knife scars from a lurid pattern on the left side of his face, while the young woman beside him, for all that she had the dark complexion of someone from the southern portions of the Earth Kingdom, looked pale and drawn.

            For all that, though, Katara had to admit that they looked put together and competent. Even though it was pouring rain outside, and water was glistening on their coats, they had an air of _put togetherness_ ( _the best description Katara could come up with in that moment_ ) about them, from the handheld radios sitting on their shoulders to the pistols resting in holsters at their hips. For some reason, she even had the feeling that their uniform boots were polished to a glittering shine.

            It was the young man who spoke next, the one who couldn’t have looked more Fire Nation if he had tried. He took a slight step forward, gave her a polite little bow which she returned, before saying, in Hangugeo that, though good, was marked by a thick, very distinct Fire Nation accent, “Um…we were just wondering if you could direct us to a Doctor Katara.” He stepped back in line with his partner, who gave her own polite bow at the same time. “I’m Officer Tazaki,” he said, tapping his chest, “and this is my partner, Officer Yin.”

            At the mention of her name, Officer Yin took over, reaching up to tap the radio on her shoulder. “We received a call from Dispatch that a Doctor Katara had requested two officers? Something about a shooting victim wanting to make a police report?”

            “And how this individual wanted to speak specifically to me?” Officer Tazaki added, the knife scars that crisscrossed the left side of his face making his expression of vague confusion look intriguingly lopsided.

            That’s when it all clicked. She almost smacked a hand to her forehead, she felt so stupid. _Oh, right, it’s not like I made that phone call barely **thirty minutes ago.**_ She frowned, checked her watch. _Or was it an hour…?_ She gave herself another shake, taking a moment to draw herself up straight and put what she hoped was a smile on her face. _Doesn’t matter how long ago it was; at least they’re here, which means that we might be able to get the bottom of the strange man calling himself **Kojima.**_

            “Ah, _right._ ” Her eyes flashed over to Officer Tazaki, and she felt a flush creep up from her neck as his eyes darted away from her own. This was hardly the time or the place, Tazaki’s knife scars gave a somewhat roguish, almost piratical impression, but for all of that, well…

            Katara bit down on a sigh. _He’s cute, alright, Inner Me? I’m tired, I’ve been single for **entirely** too long, my blind roommate won’t stop mocking me for my dry spell, it’s late, and he’s really, **really,** cute. **So sue me.**_

            Not even bothering to push those thoughts away ( _mostly because she didn’t have the energy_ ), she said, “Sorry, it’s…well…it’s been a long night. I’m Doctor Katara.”

            Tazaki broke into a grin that looked entirely too happy, turning to his partner and giving her a nudge with his elbow. “See? I told you so, Suki. Pay up.”

            Officer Yin just rolled her eyes. “Bite me, Zuko.”

            Katara didn’t even try to hide her confusion. “Pardon…?”

            It was Yin ( _or maybe Suki?_ ) who answered. “Zuko here, when we came in, pointed at you and said, _I bet that’s her. Katara’s a Water Tribe name._ But I thought you looked too young for the voice that made the call, so I said he was crazy.”

            Tazaki laughed. “And _I_ said…well…um…” Suddenly, he blushed bright red, and collapsed into a fit of coughing and spluttering. “Well…um…” He gave himself a shake, snapped himself to an almost military-like attention, all while his partner seemed to be bursting at the seams in her desperation to laugh, and said, “It…um… _doesn’t matter._ Point is, you’re the one who called, and now we’re here. Sorry about the delay, by the way. It’s been a bit of an odd night.”

            Katara giggled, in a way that she had long ago sworn never to do, now that she was in her residency _and a grown-ass woman, for La’s sake_. “Hey, you’re here, and my patient is still in his room.” _I think; he looked a bit flighty._ “I’ll call that a win.” Her bizarrely happy mood – something she couldn’t help but blame on one _Officer Zuko Tazaki_ – while not exactly _evaporating,_ definitely got pushed aside by her sense of professionalism. She looked down at the counter covered with charts, hunted around, found the one she was looking for, and drew it forth. “Which, I’m afraid, brings us to the matter at hand…”

            Yin nodded, both her and her partner suddenly looking all business. “Indeed.” Both she and Tazaki pulled notebooks and pens from their inner coat pockets and got ready to write. “If you could describe the situation for us…?”

            Katara nodded, glancing from them to the chart and back again. “ _Right._ Earlier this afternoon,” a quick glance at her watch, followed by a heavy sigh, “well, more like _yesterday afternoon,_ a man stumbled into the ER with a gunshot wound. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it was rather serious. He was unresponsive to questioning, merely indicating that he had been shot and required assistance.”

            “How did he pay?” Tazaki ( _or **Zuko,** that’s what his partner called him, _Katara mused, _and wouldn’t **that** be cute, almost like fate, really, what with our names_) asked.

            Katara ran a finger down the appropriate chart. “In cash, it seems. Naturally, this sent up a few red flags, but it’s not our job to judge people, so they patched him up down in the ER and sent him upstairs for observation. He passed out at some point, and when I came on shift, I popped in on my rounds to see if he was awake. He was, and after a brief check-up, I asked him if he wished to speak to the police. He did,” which was good, in Katara’s opinion, because once he was confirmed to be stable, she would’ve had to call the police anyways, but she’d always found that it was easier when the patient consented to the idea themselves, “and asked for you, Officer Tazaki, by name.”

            Tazaki ( _which was how Katara kept thinking about him, no matter that she was experiencing a growing urge to call him **Zuko** and run her fingers along those scars, because **reasons**_ ) looked up from his notes, his frown of confusion having only grown since Katara’s report began. “And what was the name he gave you?”

            “Kojima,” Katara answered, before giving a vague, awkward shrug. “I don’t really buy that that’s his actual name, mind you, but that’s the one he gave.”

            Tazaki nodded. “True…still…huh…”

            “What is it, Officer?” Katara asked, why, she didn’t know, but she felt that it was somehow… _important? Maybe?_

Tazaki just shook his head, taking a moment to scratch the back of his neck with his pen. “Honestly? I dunno…I just…I feel like I’ve heard that name before somewhere…”

            Katara felt something in that moment, something she… _didn’t quite understand,_ couldn’t quite put into words. It was powerful and profound and important, she didn’t know why, but she just… _felt **something,**_ and that something was the most important thing she had ever felt in her life.

            _Like Destiny just walked up in front of me, right here, right now._

“You know,” Katara said, she didn’t know where the words were coming from, but she had to say them, felt as if she would hate herself for the rest of her life if she didn’t, “I felt the same way when he gave me the name.”

            Tazaki’s frown turned into a soft, lopsided smile, which was about when Katara began to suspect that she was developing a crush. “You don’t say? Maybe we all knew each other in a past life.”

            Katara felt a smile curl her own lips, and then her hand was in her hair, tucking it back behind one ear, and her head was cocking at an angle, and she found herself praying to every god and spirit she had ever heard of that she wasn’t biting her lip, _because that would just be entirely too much, I mean, **come on,** you graduated second in your med school class, Katara, have some freaking **pride,** girl. _“I can think of worse things to have happened.”

            Officer Tazaki turned an incredibly bright shade of red, while Officer Yin closed her notebook with a loud _thwack_ and threw her hands up in the air. “Alright, _I’m out,_ ” she said, chuckling softly. “You two go make eyes at each other and get this statement, while I go get some gods-damn coffee.”

            Both Katara and Tazaki shot upright to an almost military-grade attention, and Katara really hoped she wasn’t blushing as badly as Tazaki was as they both stumbled and stuttered and burbled through a serious of incoherent denials that Katara felt neither of them actually believed.

            Officer Yin didn’t buy it, either, rolling her eyes and muttering, “Yeah, yeah, _whatever,_ ” as she strolled towards the nurses’ break room, where anyone who knew anything knew was the place to go for the _good_ coffee.

            Which left the doctor and the cop, alone, trying to look anywhere but in each other’s eyes, until finally Katara cleared her throat and said, “So, um… _statement…”_

Tazaki gave a half-hearted chuckle, clearing his throat and nodding. “Right, um… _after you, Doctor…”_

She came around the counter and flashed the most confident smile she was capable of in that moment. “Well, um…alright, this way…and…um…just plain _Katara’s_ fine.”

            Tazaki cracked a smile, and gave a slight bow of his head. “Well, in that case…um…you can call me _Zuko._ ”

            She held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Zuko.”

            Zuko took the hand and gave it a nice, firm shake. “Likewise, Katara.”

            They held that position, clasping each other’s hands, looking into each other’s eyes, for far longer than either of them, in all the years to come, would _ever_ be willing to admit.

*** * * * ***

            As they made their way to their destination, they talked. She told him about herself, and he told her about himself. She found out that neither of them had been born in Republic City, that, just like herself, he was an immigrant, though from the Fire Nation instead of the Southern Water Tribes. She found out they were both the same age, around twenty-three, and that his uncle was a cop and that his sister was in her last year at Republic City University. They talked about what had brought them to Republic City, found out that they had a lot in common, enjoyed a lot of the same music, liked a lot of the same movies, read a lot of the same kinds of books. She told him about how she didn’t want to be a surgeon or a specialist, that she was passionate about being a GP, and found out that his dream was to be a Homicide detective, just like his uncle, whom he seemed to regard as his true father.

            They didn’t talk much about their families, though, and they _certainly_ didn’t talk about their mothers. That would end up being saved for the third date, though neither of them knew that yet.

*** * * * ***

            “Well,” Zuko observed, returning his notepad to his inside coat pocket and running a hand through his hair, “I wish I could say I was _surprised._ ”

            Katara frowned, closing the door on the room from which the man who called himself _Kojima_ had disappeared. “That happen a lot, people asking to make a statement before running off?”

            Zuko sighed. “I wish I could say that it was _rare,_ but, sadly, it’s not. People know that, as soon as they agree to make a statement, they’ll generally be left alone, and hospitals are easier to escape from than police stations as a general rule.”

            Katara crossed her arms over her chest, turning around to give the door to the now-empty room a glare. “I _knew_ I should’ve put one of the burlier orderlies on the door.”

            “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Zuko said, taking his peaked cap from under his arm and placing it on top of his head, the cap that Katara had no way of knowing would be hanging from one of her bedposts two months later. “The thing about guys that tend to do the kinds of things that get you shot is that, as a general rule, they tend to pop up eventually.”

            “Typically in the morgue,” Katara observed, to which Zuko gave a dry sort of chuckle.

            “Yeah, that’s definitely a possibility…though…um…on a happier note…”

            Katara took a step closer to Zuko, her attention perked up, her heart racing, which was silly, _I’m a grown-ass woman, dammit,_ but her heart didn’t seem to care one little bit. “Yes…?”

            “Well…you see…um…I…uh…I really liked talking to you…and…um…I feel like…you know…um…I just…uh…well…the thing is that…you see…I mean…oh gods I’m not good at this…it’s just that-“

            Katara stuck a hand in her pocket and found a random piece of paper, a piece of paper she pulled out and, snatching a pen from her hair, starting writing on. “The answer’s _yes,_ by the way.”

            That seemed to strike Zuko like a lightning bolt out of a clear blue sky. “Um…uh…come again…?”

            Katara giggled, where her confidence was coming from, she didn’t know, didn’t particularly care, she was just glad it was there. “You’re about to ask for my number, right? Well,” she finished writing, pressed the paper into one of hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice just how _clammy_ her own palms were, “here it is. My shift ends at six. How about you?”

            The goofy grin that broke out upon his face sealed the deal for Katara. _Yup, I have a crush. Oh well._ “Well…actually…around six, as a matter of fact.”

            Katara’s heart did a little somersault in her chest, and she let it. “In that case, how about you meet me out by the main entrance after that, and we go get some breakfast?”

            His smile grew even wider, and _much_ goofier. “That would be great, Katara. It’s a date.”

            How she managed not to giggle and squeal like a little girl just then, she would never, _ever_ know. “Yes, Zuko, it is.”

*** * * * ***

            It would be a solid _month_ before Toph stopped bellowing in an off-tune, singsong voice, **_Sugar Queen’s in looooooooooove! Sugar Queen’s in loooooooooooooove!_**

In an uncharacteristic moment, Katara didn’t bother to try to get her roommate to stop. In fact, she didn’t even really mind.

            Not. One. _Bit._

If anything, she was quite pleased. For reasons she didn’t fully comprehend, she felt as if her and the boy named _Zuko_ were overdue for a genuine _meet-cute,_ though such a thought was just absolutely silly.

            _Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was just adorable. You guys thought so, too, right? I know I did.
> 
> Fun Fact: As of this moment in time, the rest of the responses for this month will be varying degrees of cute. I have no real plans for any more emotional gut-punches, though that mood is always subject to change, because it's the holidays and my family is never anything but a trial. *bit ole' happy face*
> 
> Moving on, I meant what I said up at the top. This story is very much dedicated to my wife, with whom I had an honest-to-God meet-cute, straight out of a fucking rom-com. If you'd like to read the full story, feel free to go to FF.net, search the author called "kangaroo2010," and read it there. It's pretty goddamn adorable. You can also, as usual, find me on Tumblr, as well as follow me on Twitter @Historybuff2013.
> 
> Oh, and Merry Fuckin' Christmas!
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, we return to a Canon-ish setting, at Zuko and Katara decide to switch jobs for a day. Stay tuned!


	25. In His/Her Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was always a bit funny, how they didn't start to really understand each other until they were standing in each other's shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the AU set up in "Royalty" and continued in "Caught."

**In His/Her Shoes**

“WHAT WAS THE HARDEST PART?”

            Zuko frowned. “Of what?”

            Across from him, Katara sipped her own tea, the tea his uncle had made for them before suddenly making himself scarce. _Just going to pop over to the local temple,_ Uncle had said, waggling his eyebrows and whistling a happy tune. _I just realized that I haven’t paid my respects to the gods for our good fortune._ Uncle had chuckled, looking as sly as he was capable of. _And I think I’ll make an offering for the souls of those we have lost, among other things._

 _What other things, Uncle?_ Zuko had asked, while Katara settled herself onto the floor in the little apartment Zuko and his uncle were reduced to these days, the tiny flat that Zuko was beginning to find he liked more than he’d ever liked his room back home.

            In reply, Uncle had just giggled like a schoolboy, ruffled Zuko’s ever shaggier hair, and said something infuriatingly cryptic before all but _twirling_ out of the room, leaving Zuko to fume at empty air, _again._

_Which doesn’t answer Katara’s question._

“Well,” Katara said, setting down her tea cup and picking up one of the biscuits Uncle had specially bought that morning, _as if Zuko wouldn’t see what he was up to, we’re just friends now, Uncle, **just friends,** we’ve had an insane year and we’ve come a long way and I’m just giving her etiquette lessons because **she’s** the one living in a palace now, you’re making mountains out of badger-mole hills, Uncle, **just stop it,**_ “you were telling me yesterday about how you and your uncle survived the past six months, since the North.”

            Zuko nodded, wincing at some of the memories. _I’ll make it up to you someday, Song, I promise._ “Yeah…often in ways that I’m not proud of…”

            Katara gave him one of what he was coming to recognize as her standard _looks,_ as if to say, _Stop being so hard on yourself, you silly turtle-duck._ “So you stole an ostrich-horse. Did you do it to be mean or cruel?”

            Zuko sighed, a hand wandering up to rub the back of his neck. “Well…no…it’s just…Uncle was an idiot and accepted that invitation, and I knew we were being hunted, I needed to do something to make them hate us if someone ever followed our trail there…” He sighed. Even now, the excuse rang hollow and dull in his ears. “And we were hungry and Uncle was sick and I was pissed off at the world and selfish.”

            “So,” Katara said, in a tone of voice that seemed to proclaim, _that settles it, then,_ “you were desperate and tired and not thinking clearly, and you acted like hundreds-of-thousands of other refugees thronging the roads out there.”

            His frown deepened. _Who’s supposed to be teaching who here?_ Somewhere in the back of his mind, he vaguely recalled something his uncle had said, some pithy little saying out of one of the lesser known books by some lesser known Air Nomad guru, that probably covered such a situation, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall it. _Whatever. What is it Uncle keeps saying? **Be yourself, boy.**_

“I acted like a normal human being, is what you’re saying.”

            Katara nodded. “Pretty much. Was it the right thing to do? Of course not, but hindsight is…oh…what was that saying you taught me the other day? You know, from that book you had to memorize as a kid…”

            “The _Tao Te Ching?”_

Katara snapped her fingers in the air. “That one. Something about…oh…”

            “Well, he doesn’t speak on _hindsight,_ so much as he-“

            Katara raised a hand, palm out. “I’m gonna stop you there. I _still_ have a headache from trying to cram all that into my head.”

            “Has it been useful, though?”

            Katara’s face broke into a wide grin, and not for the first time, he found himself wanting very much to keep that smile there. “ _Immensely._ There was this planning session day before yesterday, you know, _for the invasion that’s a horrible idea but everyone seems to think it’s brilliant,_ and one of those sayings popped into my head, and I just blurted it out, and next thing I know, everyone is praising me for my wisdom and whatnot. Hell, I haven’t been called an _uncultured barbarian_ in a good _week._ ”

            Zuko allowed himself a small smile and bowed his head. “Happy I could help. But, back to your question…”

            “ _Right._ Just…about…you were born into…” She paused, waving the still uneaten biscuit around in the air as she struggled for words. “You know…into _that,_ ” she continued, pointing the biscuit in the general direction of the Imperial Palace. “And then, for the past six months or so, you’ve been on the very _bottom._ So…I mean…going from where I started to…you know… _there…_ has been utterly _exhausting,_ so…what was the hardest part for you, being at the bottom?”

            He pondered that for a moment. “Honestly?”

            She smiled. “I like to think we’ve been nothing but honest with each other. It’s…” She paused, giggled, then her head was tilting and she was tucking some stray hairs behind an ear and there was a strange blush spreading across her face and he felt a prickly heat in his chest and he was suddenly _very glad_ his uncle wasn’t there. “It’s kind of one of the hallmarks of our relationship, you know?”

            He coughed into his hand, hoping he wasn’t blushing like she was, _though why should she be blushing, I’m the doof here._ “Well… _true…_ though…we have a relationship?”

            Her eyes went wide, though the smile and the blush remained. “Well…I mean… _if you think about it…_ you know…just…um… _yeah…_ you know what? _Nevermind._ Just…um… _my question…”_

“Oh…right…uh… _yeah…_ but…actually, you know what the hardest part was? Admitting I was human.”

            That seemed to throw her for a loop. “Come again?”

            “It’s just…well…I was raised as royalty, right? Royalty are supposed to be… _different,_ from everyone else. _Better._ Royalty don’t complain, royalty don’t get tired, royalty don’t get hungry. Hurt? Walk it off. Sad? Get over it. Afraid? That’s not possible, because normal people are afraid, _and you’re not normal._ That was pounded into my head from… _from birth,_ really, and then, there I was, adrift in a land full of people who would very much like to kill me if they knew who my father was, and…well…”

            “You had to admit that you were human after all.”

            “Yeah…”

            “And that was difficult.”

            “Incredibly so. It’s like I was telling you, when you were talking about trying to tell Kuei that his people were hungry, and he looked confused, because it’s quite possible that he _doesn’t know what hunger is._ ”

            “I’m _still_ trying to recover from that revelation…it was an enormous help to me, too, but…just…living that way, being raised that way…it’s exhausting, isn’t it?”

            “Yes,” Zuko said, and it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, just the simple act of saying that, admitting to it, _acknowledging it, I’m just a person, a normal human being, **and that’s okay.**_ “Yes, exhausting is a good word for it. Don’t you find it so, being up at the top of the hill, literally and figuratively?”

            Katara sighed and nodded. “It’s…it’s dizzying. I don’t know if I ever could’ve grown up that way.”

            Zuko found a smile coming, completely unbidden. “I dunno…I think you would’ve made an incredible princess.”

            Katara scoffed. “Screw that; I’d rather be a queen.”

            “That can be arranged.”

            “…come again?”

            “Um…uh…so, back to Confucius…”

            “Oh…um… _right…_ um…but…I mean, seriously…how could I become a queen…?”

            “Well…you could…um…I dunno…marry me?”

            “…I can think of worse things to happen…”

            “…what?”

            “…I said that out loud, didn’t I…”

            “…um… _maybe…?”_

“So…uh…Confucius…right…?”

            “Right…”

*** * * * ***

            Later that night, back at the Palace, Sokka asked Katara why she’d been smiling all day. She pointed out that she smiled quite a bit. He admitted that was true, but observed that there was something… _different…_ about her smile that night.

            She just told him to mind his own business, before going right back to smiling.

*** * * * ***

            Back in the Fire Quarter, about as far from the Earth Kingdom’s Imperial Palace as it was possible to be, Uncle would not stop singing _The Girls from Ba Sing Se,_ and, for once, Zuko didn’t bother to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I could ramble on about what's going on here, but you know what? It's Christmas, and we should just enjoy the good feelings left by that cute little story. I'll suffice it to say that, basically, this is in the same AU as Day 14's "Royalty" and Day 15's "Caught," and basically, Katara's been coming to Zuko for lessons in how to navigate the Earth Kingdom high society she's found herself in, and it's basically all about how, now that Zuko's the one on the bottom and she's the one on the top, they're really starting to get each other, because that's an episode I think even the Kataangers among us would've enjoyed seeing.
> 
> But like I said, fuck it, it's Christmas. The wife and I did a whole big Christmas Eve Thing yesterday with our families (a fun tidbit about Latino culture is that the big celebration is Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day), and today we've been lounging around, cuddling and being cute, and now I'm going to whip up my patented mac & cheese and we're going to crack open a few beers and watch some Clone Wars, because that show is awesome, and we're going to continue to cuddle and be cute and play with our dog, so nyah.
> 
> Seriously, I hope every single one of you is having a wonderful Christmas. So, Merry Christmas, and even if you're not religious, God bless. :-D
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, we pop over into the world of "The Reporter Who Came in from the Cold," because why wouldn't we? You know you wanted a coda. Stay tuned!


	26. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all her accomplishments, the one Katara would feel most proud of was the time she was finally able to save a mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another entry in the Cop/Doctor AU, previously seen in "Secret Lovers," "Wedding," "Forbidden," "Complementary," "Pregnancy," and "Strangers."

**Escape**

THE FIRST TIME KATARA MET URSA WAS IN A PRISON.

            Katara was utterly terrified, little more than a jangling ball of raw nerves. Everything about the trip to that prison seemed to have conspired against her ever feeling _calm_ or _settled._ It was her first ever trip to the Fire Nation, to the land of her fiancé’s birth, where her ability to speak the language was poor and her ability to even read the road signs or the food menus was even worse. The sights and sounds and smells were strange, and the customs were even stranger. She couldn’t get a grasp of all the bowing, kept trying to shake people’s hands, purely by instinct, even the roads seemed _wrong,_ because in the Fire Nation, they drove on the left, not the right, and she couldn’t help but feel awkward and uncomfortable every time they got in a car. And as for the customs? She would never recover from the horror she felt when she first stepped into someone’s home and forgot to take off her shoes, no matter how much nobody seemed to mind, seemed to find it amusing, _nothing to worry about, Katara-san, nothing to worry about at all_.

            It wasn’t that people were mean or rude to her, either. The first few days of the trip were an endless cavalcade of meeting Zuko’s childhood friends, Toru and Toshiro and the hilariously profane Tsurukawa and the oddly quiet Yukawa, and every single one of them, from Toshiro’s wife to Toru’s boyfriend, had gone out of their way to make Katara feel welcome and comfortable. To be honest, Katara had to admit that the people she met were _far_ kinder to her than her own family had been to Zuko, when she had taken him on a trip to the Southern Water Tribe the previous winter.

            Not that any of it mattered. _None of it did._ She was out-of-place and _foreign,_ and no matter how much fun she had, a prison visiting room loomed before her, beckoning her forward to the final step, the final hurdle.

            Zuko’s mother.

            _Ursa._

*** * * * ***

            At first, everything went more-or-less smoothly, or, at least, _as smoothly as a visit to one’s future mother-in-law’s prison could go._ It was a minimum security facility, and thus not as frightening or imposing as it could’ve been. They didn’t have to wait very long, were ushered into an austere room filled with cheap aluminum tables watched over by a bored-looking, overweight guard. It was very quiet, very calm, families meeting mothers and sisters and aunts and daughters with restrained bows and muted smiles, the room soon filling with soft conversations held in hushed voices. The woman named Ursa came in, wearing an ill-fitting bright orange uniform that looked as if it was made of paper, the woman the spitting image of her daughter, only older with short hair and tired eyes that lit up when they caught sight of Zuko. Katara jumped to her feet beside her fiancé, and, to her surprise, managed to pull off the deep bow perfectly, after which they sat and Zuko talked to his mother for a bit, introducing Katara and asking after Ursa’s health and being the dutiful, worried son that he was, all the while gripping Katara’s hand so hard that it hurt, though she didn’t mind, she was doing exactly the same thing.

            And then Zuko let go of the hand and stood and bowed to his mother and gave Katara a soft kiss on the top of her head. Katara’s eyes went wide, her blood running cold and her heart crawling up into the back of her throat until she was sure she was going to choke on it. “Um,” she stammered out, a slight tremble rippling through her body, “where are you going?”

            Zuko smiled and gave her the smile that never failed to melt her heart. “My mother wants to speak to you alone. Apparently, there are things that men are neither needed nor wanted for.”

            She wanted to argue, to beg for him to stay, _she needed him, she was the girl who aced her final med school exams without even breaking a sweat, could perform a spinal tap with her eyes closed, but she still needed him,_ but she couldn’t say the words, knew that he was right, that this was something that had to happen, so she smiled the best she could and pulled him down for another kiss and let him go. He moved off to the vending machines, and then Katara turned to face the woman across the table from her and took a deep breath, let it out.

            _I got this. I can do this._

_I can do anything._

*** * * * ***

            “So,” Ursa began, smiling, “you are to be my daughter-in-law.”

            Katara bowed her head, falling back on the Fire Nation manners Zuko had taught her. “I am, Ursa-san. It’s an honor to meet you.”

            Ursa returned the bow-of-the-head. “Likewise, and might I say that you are even more beautiful than my children and my brother-in-law led me to believe. The pictures Zuko has sent me don’t do you the least bit of justice.”

            “I…um…oh, you’re far too kind, Ursa-san…”

            “Katara, look at me.”

            Katara looked at her, looked into the eyes of the woman who had sacrificed so much, endured so much, _made a decision Katara could not even imagine,_ looked into deep, golden eyes and somehow saw her own mother, the sweet, loving mother who had been taken from her far too soon, and it was all Katara could do not to cry, to keep it together as Ursa reached across the table and Katara reached out to meet her and their hands encircled each other and held on tight.

            “Katara, I have only one question to ask, and one question only.”

            Katara nodded. She couldn’t speak. It was too hard.

            “Do you love my son?”

            “With all my heart, and all my soul.”

            Ursa shuddered, tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes, as if the weight of the world itself had been lifted from her shoulders.

            “Then,” Ursa said, smiling from ear-to-ear, looking as happy as a schoolgirl on her birthday, “I have no regrets, and no objections, though…well…I do have _one_ more question…”

            “Ask it,” Katara implored, leaning forward. “Ask anything.”

            “Well…will there be grandchildren?”

            Katara giggled. She was sitting in a prison visiting room, holding hands with a woman who had emptied a pistol’s entire magazine into her own husband’s chest, and she _giggled,_ and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

            “You bet your ass there’ll be grandchildren, and one of them will be named after you.”

            Ursa blushed bright red, establishing once and for all just whose mother she was.

            “Oh, that won’t be necessary…”

            Katara reared back, because she was who she was. “ _Excuse me?_ That’s _so_ not up for negotiation, just like the fact that, when you’re free from here, you’ll come and live with us.”

            Ursa was shaking her head, even as she smiled. “Oh, I couldn’t _possibly_ impose…”

            Katara rolled her eyes and sighed. “You really are your children’s mother, you know that, right?”

            Then the tears were back, and they were falling this time, and Ursa squeezed Katara’s hands even harder. “You… _you really mean that…?”_

Katara squeezed those hands right back. “With all my heart.”

            Ursa closed her eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was thick and damp. “And… _and Azula, she doesn’t hate me? She’s my daughter, too…?”_

Katara didn’t have to hesitate, because she was telling the unvarnished truth. “She loves you with all her heart, and wants you home.”

            “But… _she’s never come to see me…”_

Katara smiled, even as her own tears began to fall. “Because she can’t bear to see you in here, it breaks her heart.” _The next time I see my mother,_ Azula had told Katara, more times than Katara could count, _will be when she’s free, and it’ll be the last time, because I’m never letting her out of my sight again._

There wasn’t much to say after that, neither of them could talk, which was why, when Zuko came back from the vending machines bearing a couple cans of tea, he found his fiancé holding his mother tight, crying together as one.

*** * * * ***

            The first time Katara really saw Azula cry – unabashedly, without trying to pretend that she wasn’t – was when Katara was thirty-five, when all of them, Zuko and Iroh and Azula and Katara and the girls, Korra who was eight and Ursa who was six, went back to the Fire Nation to bring Ursa home. Azula was a mess for weeks, wouldn’t let her mother out of her sight, and it felt like a long time before Katara got her mother-in-law alone. They were sitting out on the back porch, watching Zuko and Azula play with the girls while Iroh worked the grill, and Katara turned to Ursa and asked her how she felt.

            “Free,” Ursa said, sipping a glass of wine as she wiped tears from her eyes. “I finally feel like I’ve made my escape, and that I’m home free.”

            Katara would never be able to say how it felt, to hear those words, because, to be honest, she felt the same way.

            How could she not? _She finally had a mother again._

_She had made her escape from the past, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so, first thing's first: Sorry. I know, I know, I know, I promised that there would be no more emotional gut-punches this month, and also that today's entry would be a kind of epilogue to The Reporter Who Came in from the Cold. First, about the second part, my bad, but I was running an errand this morning and this story idea came to me and I just fell in love with it, and besides, TRWCiftC felt...well...that was a perfect ending, you guys, so, you know, why mess with it?
> 
> As for the promise of no more emotional gut-punches, this one has a happy ending, so I hope you'll forgive me.
> 
> This is definitely a story that doesn't need much elaboration. Just suffice it to say that Ursa was in prison for killing Ozai, because every culture has its bullshit and the Fire Nation is not exceptional in that regard. Also, how nice is it to see that, in one universe, Zuko's Army buddies from "Romance of the Four Nations" (which you can find on my FF.net page, and you totally should, it rocks) survived to live happy, healthy lives?
> 
> Oh, real quick, I forgot to mention this yesterday, but a big inspiration for yesterday's "In His/Her Shoes" was the kickass anime "Moribito." There's a scene in there where Balsa (the protagonist) is protecting a kid named Chagum, who's a prince, and she has to explain to him that it's okay to admit that he's tired and needs a rest, she knows that, as a prince, he was taught otherwise, but he's not a prince anymore. It's a pretty awesome anime; you should totally scope it.
> 
> Anyhoo, even of that, I think. I have a pretty full day today; the wife and I are going to hang out with some friends, and then hit up a big sale over at Half-Price Books out here in Dallas, because twenty-percent off at a secondhand book store the size of a Wal-Mart you guys. In tomorrow's episode...hmm...I actually don't have a good idea for tomorrow. Maybe something Bluetara-y? *shrugs* Let's find out together!


	27. Partners in Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man fancied himself a good citizen, which was why he ran to help the Water Tribe girl screaming about her purse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing but good clean fun here, guys. Enjoy!

**Partners in Crime**

THE MAN WAS VERY CONFUSED. Everything had started off rather mundane, now that he stopped to think about it. He had been headed home from work, until the time came for him to switch from one subway line to another and he realized that he was not in the mood to cook something once he got back to his apartment. Thus, pretty much on a whim, instead of immediately making his transfer, he had left the subway station, heading up onto the street to look for something that would, at the very least, _look_ appealing. That’s where he had been, pondering his options, when the woman started screaming.

            The man fancied himself a good citizen, and so he had run to the woman, pulling her up off the sidewalk and asking what was wrong. The woman, who looked young, barely more than twenty-or-twenty-two, had sniffled and pointed a trembling finger. “That man!” she all but screamed as she clutched at him. “That man stole my purse! He shoved me to the ground and stole my purse!”

            The man followed the finger, just in time to catch the outline of a tall, lanky young man pelting down the street at top speed. The good citizen took a quick look around, just long enough to realize that it was, just as the weather reports had promised, a cold and ugly night in Omashu, which meant that there was no one around to stop the thief. Reacting quickly, the good citizen reassured the woman, then ran after the thief. The chase was short, which seemed odd, the good citizen wasn’t in the best of shape and the thief looked like the kind of person who could run all day, but the good citizen didn’t have time to think about that, he only had time to reach out and tackle the thief to the ground. There was a brief scuffle, long enough for the good citizen to register the scar that marked the left side of the thief’s face, like someone had slammed the thief’s head into a hot stove burner, but then the thief was shoving him away and shouting, “Gods, man, _fine,_ if you want the purse so bad, it’s yours!” Then the thief was on his feet and running, much more quickly than he had before, the good citizen thought, but that didn’t matter, because the good citizen had the purse and he was feeling very good about himself.

            At least, up until he returned to where he’d left the young woman, only to find that the young woman was nowhere to be seen.

            _Huh,_ he thought to himself, looking first one way, then the other, then back again. _That’s strange. I could’ve sworn…_ He shook his head, very confused. _Maybe she ran to find a cop?_ He shrugged, unzipping the purse and reaching in, thinking that he might find some identification, return the purse later. _She was Water Tribe, I could tell that much…very pretty, long, wavy brown hair, deep blue eyes, spoke with a Water Tribe accent, shouldn’t be too…hard…to…find…her…_

The purse was empty, save for a single piece of paper, folded into quarters. Ever more confused, and beginning to feel a vague sense of foreboding, the man pulled out the paper, unfolded it, and felt his heart drop as he read it.

            _Congratulations, sucker! You’ve just been had! Thanks for your generous contribution!_

_Signed, the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady, partners in crime, partners in life. Cheers!_

It was about then that the good citizen realized that his wallet was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, some good clean fun, which is good, because I woke up today not having the slightest clue what to write for this prompt. I was completely and utterly lost, until I thought of the line, the man was very confused. And, thus, this. I hope you enjoyed the ride!
> 
> Really not much more to add today. The wife and I have a bunch of crap to get done today, along with epic cuddling, because the weather sucks balls.
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, we head down into the Crystal Catacombs, where what is left unsaid is far more important than what is allowed to be heard. Stay tuned!


	28. Whisper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They huddled in the glittering darkness, where the things left unsaid were far louder than the things that weren't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the AU previously seen in "Royalty," "Caught," and "In His/Her Shoes."

**Whisper**

IN THE GLITTERING DARKNESS OF THE CRYSTAL CATACOMBS, THEY WHISPERED. For hours they waited, not knowing if they would ever leave again, the fates of their friends and family a mystery, their own future so dark and hazy that it didn’t bear thinking about. They huddled in what passed for a _corner_ in that cavern, a bend in the sparkling rock, pressed against each other under the single threadbare blanket they had been given. He had his arm around her and she had her head nestled into the hollow between his chest and his shoulder, and at some point they’d started holding hands, though neither of them could pinpoint when, exactly, that happened. Above them, the city was falling, the great city of Ba Sing Se, a victim – like so many cities before it and so many afterwards – of its own demons, betrayed from within. Occasionally, they heard a muffled _boom,_ felt little tremors ripple through the catacombs, as if the city was alive, was a cornered animal falling to a hunter’s spear, shuddering in its death throes, but beyond that, there was only silence, and the whisper of their own voices echoing through the darkness.

            There was nothing to do, nothing they really _could_ do, no escape, no way out, no tools, no weapons, even their bending had been suppressed, because the Princess Azula had never been known to leave things to chance. Katara had been taken from her room in the Imperial Palace and Zuko had been taken from the restaurant where he worked and now they were here, facing the end, with nothing to do but talk.

            They talked about everything, it seemed, in those hours spent in limbo, waiting for something, _anything,_ to happen. Zuko shared his impressive repertoire of dark, borderline offense jokes ( _though he kept messing up the punchlines, he never had been good at telling jokes_ ), and Katara told rambling stories of her childhood and her homeland. They talked recent events, politics, speculated on what was happening beyond the walls of their gloomy, glittering prison, wondered where their friends were, _where’s Aang when you actually need him_ was how Zuko put it, and Katara had to giggle and admit that he had a point. He worried about his uncle and she worried about her brother and Toph and the Avatar and they debated whether the Black Sun Invasion still had any hope, even as they admitted that it had been a long shot from the very beginning.

            But there were other things, things they didn’t talk about, things that lingered in the darkness and the shadows, hanging unsaid in the pauses between their whispers. They talked about their childhoods, but never about their mothers, because they didn’t want the other one to be sad, to hurt. They talked about the nearly two months they had spent since she found him in his restaurant, nearly two months of seeing each other almost every day, but they didn’t talk about how much it had begun to feel like they were dating. They talked about how much they had enjoyed each other’s company, but they didn’t talk about the blushes and the giggles and the one time they almost kissed. They had a laugh over how it would look if Sokka burst in on them right now, but they didn’t talk about how, no matter how awkward that would be, neither of them let go of the other’s hand.

            They didn’t tell each other, _I love you,_ because they didn’t know that yet.

            They didn’t say, _I don’t want to live in a world without you,_ because they were too afraid to admit that, even to themselves.

            They didn’t run away together, because they couldn’t.

            They just held each other, and talked. Sometimes they laughed, sometimes they cried, she even offered to try and heal his scar, when she felt her bending start to come back, and he thought about it for a long time, not because he wanted her to heal his scar, but because he didn’t want her to stop touching his face, but he didn’t say that, he was afraid she would think he was weird, though she wouldn’t have thought that at all, because she was too busy thinking, _What do I have to do to get this idiot to finally kiss me, do I really have to do everything myself?_

Then the walls came down and everything went to hell and his sister came and shot down the Avatar and made her offer and Zuko knew exactly what to do, and so he did it.

            He chose the girl with the big blue eyes, because, as much as he wanted to finally go home, he wanted to hear the things that had been left unsaid far more.

            Katara was the only one who wasn’t surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was a close one, guys. Almost didn't get this posted. I've been feeling under the weather all damn day, I'm only now starting to feel human, and even then? I'm feeling pretty blah. But I started this month determined to respond to every prompt and post every day, and now that I'm so close to the finish line, I'm not about to give up.
> 
> Because, seriously, how fucking cool is this?! I'm almost there!
> 
> I suppose I should talk a bit about what's going on, but basically, I'm tired and I don't feel good and I want to go cuddle with my wife, so I'll refer you to the other stories in this continuity (they're mentioned up top) and let the story speak for itself. So, I hope you all had fun, and I'll see you tomorrow. Speaking of which...
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, we pop over to my story, "Hold Back the River" (which you can find over on my FF.net profile by looking up my SN, kangaroo2010) wherein Zuko's daughter goes to school and finds out that, technically speaking, she's a princess. Stay tuned!


	29. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko always knew that the day would come, when his little girl would want to know if she was a real princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to my story "Hold Back the River," which isn't necessary to read to enjoy this piece, but it's a fun little fic and you should, because nyah, it's on my FF.net profile (author name kangaroo2010), go have fun.

**History**

“DADDY?”

            Zuko pushed himself back from his desk and his work with glee and a heavy sigh of relief. It was Tuesday, which meant that the next day was _Pay Day_ for the restaurant’s staff, which, in turn, meant that Zuko was condemned to spend the entire day with his head buried in ledgers and paperwork while Katara walked the girls to school and back and kept the restaurant humming. Zuko _hated_ Payroll Day, was always eager for any kind of distraction, which was why Katara typically made sure no one so much as spoke to him, lest he seize on the chance to make an escape.

            There was only one exception to that _don’t bother my husband, he needs to focus,_ rule, or, to be more precise, _four exceptions,_ and those were their daughters, Kya, Ursa, Yue, and Kumiko ( _which was the name of Zuko’s aunt, a decision that had reduced Uncle to tears when he found out_ ) _._ And, as it so happened, one of those exceptions was standing in the door to his office, looking absolutely adorable in her school uniform.

            Zuko smiled, angling his chair away from his desk and holding his arms wide. “Not so fast, sweetheart. What do we do first?”

            It was Kya, his eldest, the spitting image of her mother ( _except for the golden eyes_ ), and she didn’t hesitate, racing across the office, hurling herself into his arms, and giving him a big fat kiss on the cheek. He chuckled, ruffling her hair and squeezing her tight, because she was nine now, which meant that he didn’t have much more time before she decided that he was _lame_ and _uncool_ and that she was _too big_ to be doing such _little girl things_ as curling up in her father’s lap.

            _But not yet,_ he reflected, as Kya got herself comfortable and adopted a very serious expression. _I’ve still got a few years to be awesome._

            “So,” he said, smiling from ear-to-ear, because that’s who he was now, a doting father who smiled all the time and went days without thinking about the scar on his face, “what can I do for you today, Kya?”

            Kya looked him right in the eye and went right to the point. “Daddy, am I a princess?”

            _Uh oh._ Keeping a straight face, he nodded and kissed the top of her head. “Of _course_ you are, sweetheart! You and your sisters are _all_ Daddy’s little princesses.”

            Kya rolled her eyes, looking so much like Katara in that moment that Zuko about fell out of his chair in hysterics. “Well, _of course_ I know _that,_ Daddy, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

            Feigning ignorance ( _and wondering if that was Katara’s snicker he heard, just outside the door_ ), he nodded, adopting a grave expression. “Of course not, my dear. What _are_ you talking about?”

            “Well…” Kya took a big breath, as only a nine-year-old could, and immediately launched into her story. “You see, Daddy, today, in History class, Ebisuno-san,” a name she said with a grimace, because Kya didn’t really like History, and _definitely_ didn’t like the old woman who taught it, “was teaching us about the Hundred Years’ War, and how the Fire Nation became a republic, and why we don’t have a Fire Lord anymore, because the last Fire Lord was a big ole’ meanie and nobody liked him and when the Avatar defeated him, his son, who had been banished for defiance, decided that there shouldn’t be a Fire Lord anymore, and he let the people decide, and they agreed, and are you following me, Daddy?”

            Zuko nodded, struggling to keep the smile from his face, because his daughter was being serious and, thus, he needed to be serious, too. “Of course I am, sweetheart. Please, go on.”

            “Okay. So, Ebisuno-san, she tells us that this prince was named _Zuko,_ which I thought was weird, because that’s _your_ name, Daddy, but it might have just been a…uh… _coincidence,_ that’s the word, right?”

            “Right.”

            “Right, so, Ebisuno-san says that the prince was named _Zuko,_ and then Noriko, she asks what happened to the prince, and Ebisuno-san gives me a strange look and tells us that the prince went off to live a private life, and that we should respect the prince’s privacy, but then Ayumi, she asked what the prince looked like, and Ebisuno-san shows us an old portrait, and Noriko, she was stunned, she leans over and whispers, _That looks like your Dad, Kya!_ And she was right! The person in the picture had your scar and everything! Well, I mean, he looked _younger,_ but he looked just like you! So when Mommy came to walk Ursa and I home but not Yue and Kumiko, they’re still too young, but Mommy made me hold Yue’s hand because she was holding Kumiko, which is _silly_ , I asked her if we were all princesses, and Mommy laughed and said that I would have to ask you, and I wanted Ursa to come in, but she just wanted to go play with her stupid _dolls_ and said she didn’t care so I had to come in here by myself and ask you and well Daddy am I a real princess?”

            Zuko didn’t answer his daughter immediately, because it was a difficult question to answer. He had always known this day would come, the day when he and Katara would have to tell their children about their past, about the War and the battles and the throne Zuko had cast aside, the crown he had given up, and why the girls got presents from so many important people on their birthdays and why the Avatar himself was their uncle, and now that it had arrived for Kya, Zuko wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Should he explain that, yes, she _would_ have been a princess, but she wasn’t because Zuko wasn’t a prince anymore, never would be? Would she even understand that, or, even if she understood, would she care?

            Which was about when Zuko decided that _nine-years-old_ was a bit too young to understand the complexities of History and royal titles, and gave an honest answer.

            “Yes, sweetheart, you are, indeed, a princess, and not just because your Daddy was a prince.”

            Kya’s eyes went wide. “No?”

            “No! Because, see, your Grandpa Hakoda is a chief, remember? Which is like being a king, so that means your Mommy is _also_ a princess, and that makes you a princess _two times over._ ”

            Kya gasped, looking like she had just gotten the best birthday present in the history of birthdays. “ ** _Really?!”_**

Zuko smiled and nodded. “ _Really._ ”

            Naturally, when, a week later, a letter came from the school, saying that Kya had gotten in a fight with a girl who didn’t believe that she was, in fact, a princess, Katara made Zuko deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For today's AN, we take a little break from being serious and shit and take a look inside my writing process.
> 
> Basically, this fun, adorable little piece owes its existence to my wife. My wife is a big fan of "Hold Back the River" (which, as I mentioned up above, can be found on my FF.net profile) because she just thinks it's fun and cute, because it is. Anyways, after I wrote and posted it, she started spinning out this whole post-story headcanon, in which Katara and Zuko end up having four daughters, and my wife even picked out the names. From there, she spun this cute little story about the day the eldest goes to History class and finds out that she's a real princess, and comes home and demands some answers from her father. Zuko, being Zuko, tells her that she is, in fact, a real princess, and this goes to little Kya's head and Zuko ends up having to head over to the school because Kya got in a fight with her archnemesis, and Katara is all, "This is your fault, you go fix it, you big goof."
> 
> Long story short, my wife came up with this story, I just wrote it down, because, yes, all my best story ideas come from my wife. I love you, babe! 
> 
> Moral of the story, it always pays to become involved with someone smarter than you.
> 
> And that, I think, is enough bragging about my wife. For now. In tomorrow's episode, Zuko and Katara run for it. Stay tuned!


	30. Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara had lost so much, failed to save so many people, but she was damned if she was going to fail to save Zuko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final conclusion to the AU chronicled in "Royalty," "Caught," "In His/Her Shoes," and "Whisper."

**Survive**

FROM THE MOMENT THAT SHE’D SEEN ZUKO WALK AWAY FROM THE SPIRIT OASIS, KATARA HAD KNOWN, DEEP DOWN INSIDE, THAT IT WOULD ALL COME TO THIS. As time came to a stop and her voice froze in her throat, as the world trembled and shuddered like it was all nothing more than a dream, she had known this was coming. She could see it all, every step, every piece locking together into an intricate web of fate and destiny. She didn’t even have to close her eyes to see it all happen again, right before her, over and over and over…

            _And over…_

_I had to pull him away from the wall of rock his uncle’s lightning had created, had to take him by the hand and pull him after me…_

_I gripped his hand so hard, so tight, pulling him after me, keeping him moving, because he kept trying to fall behind…_

_He kept trying to give Aang to me, or to Sokka, or to anyone, anyone at all, but I wouldn’t let him, told him there was no time, just gripped his hand like it was the only thing keeping  me alive and kept pulling him after me…_

_Because he kept trying to go back…_

_Kept trying to die…_

And now, Zuko had pulled it off. He had held himself back, and now they were leaving him behind. Sokka had had to get into the pilot’s bench on Appa and it took Katara and Toph and all their combined strength and ability to get Aang into the saddle and then Sokka was snapping the reins and bellowing _yip yip yip_ and Katara was turning around, her hair was in her eyes and she was covered in dirt and her clothes were torn and charred and she brushed the hair away and they were lifting off, her heart was falling into her stomach and her stomach was falling through her battered boots and everything stopped as she realized that they were lifting off and _Zuko wasn’t there._

Somebody screamed. It sounded a lot like her. Somebody who sounded like her was screaming, screaming at Sokka to turn Appa around, somebody was screaming and shouting and they sounded on the verge of tears and they were pointing, it looked like her but Katara wasn’t sure of anything anymore, it was all nothing more than a dream, a nightmare, the most horrid nightmare she had ever lived through, because Zuko was alone on the roof they had just lifted off from and he had a sword in his hands and the Dai Li were pouring up from the street like a tsunami of green and brown and the entire city was screaming, or that was what it sounded like, _what it felt like,_ soldiers in red were pouring into the streets and the air was thick with smoke and the heat from the fires seared her lungs as she breathed in and leaned over the side, she was in danger of falling, she didn’t care, she had to save him, _she had to save Zuko,_ he had given up everything for them, _he gave up everything for her, she felt in her bones,_ and she had so much she wanted to say, so much she had been too afraid to say, down there in the Crystal Catacombs, and now he was going to throw his life away like the honorable fool that he was and she couldn’t let him do that he was going to survive whether he liked it or not _and she was going to make it happen she couldn’t save her mother but she was damned if she wasn’t going to save Zuko and-_

The world tilted, and she almost fell out, she didn’t care but it was scary nonetheless and Sokka was screaming back over his shoulder though she didn’t know, couldn’t understand what he was saying and Toph was bellowing one obscenity after another as she went sliding around the saddle clinging to Aang and Katara didn’t care about that, either, she was going to save Zuko because they still had things to say and _he deserves to live, dammit, he deserves to win, just this once…_

_Because I deserve to win, too, and if he refuses to jump, I’m going to him, because I’ll be damned if I let him die alone._

Everything stopped.

            Nobody moved.

            Nobody breathed.

            There was just one sound, one voice, and it was hers, though she didn’t sound like herself anymore.

            _“Zuko, jump! Jump and take my hand!”_

Zuko turned, slowly, or that was how it felt, and his one good eye met both of hers and a gust of wind rippled his hair and she looked back at him and begged him to come to her, to take her hand, to survive, _to live,_ and then something happened, something changed, Katara would remember the moment for the rest of their lives, for all that she never fully understood any of it, but it didn’t matter, because Zuko dropped his sword and started running and he was at the lip of the roof and he was jumping and his arm was out and his legs were kicking back-and-forth in the air desperate for something, _anything,_ and Katara was reaching out for him and she was begging, _pleading,_ because she needed to save him, _she needed **him,**_ and they were so close but so far and…

            And…

            _And…_

 _Got him._ His weight almost pulled her out of the saddle, but _almost_ was better than nothing, she had him and she was pulling up with all her strength as Sokka hurled Appa into another hard turn and they were rising, up and up and _up,_ rising and running away and Toph was still swearing up a storm, calling Sokka and Katara everything but a milk-cow _and then only because she hadn’t thought of that one yet,_ but Katara didn’t care, because she’d pulled Zuko into the saddle and she had him and she had something she had to do.

            She slapped him so hard that she couldn’t feel her hand for a good minute afterwards.

            “Don’t you _dare_ do anything like that _ever again, you hear me?!”_

Zuko looked completely cowed as he rubbed his cheek and worked his jaw. “Um… _sorry, Katara, I don’t know what I was thinking…”_

Her anger evaporated in an instant. He looked so genuinely _sorry,_ so utterly _apologetic,_ that she just couldn’t stay mad, couldn’t stay upset, because she was glad he was there, happy that he had made it, that they’d managed to accomplish _something_ that day, because they’d had to leave Iroh behind and Aang was hovering on death’s door and Ba Sing Se had fallen and Ozai and Azula were triumphant but Katara had managed to save Zuko, from himself as much as from anything else, and if she could save him, she could save the world, too, it was only a matter of time, and she had one more thing to do and she didn’t know what it was until it was done, until her hands were holding his head in death grip and she was pulling him down to her and she kissed him so hard it made her toes curl, though her mind didn’t go blank until the initial shock wore off and his arms were wrapping themselves tight around her and he started kissing her back.

            It was a long time before Toph finally let either them hear the end of _that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, that happened. I don't know how it was for you guys, but that was some fire in the circus level of intense. 
> 
> Today, in a break with the past few entries, there is a pretty long and in-depth AN attached to this story over on FF.net. Look up my SN, kangaroo2010, and scope it out if you are so inclined. If you're not, just enjoy how much I have Katara save Zuko in my pieces, because I love that shit. I blame my inner Spice Girl.
> 
> That's enough for now. In tomorrow's episode, we return to the Cop/Doctor AU, which I have fallen madly in love with, to the point that I might just have to do something major with it. Would anyone be interested in that? Also, I have an announcement to make, more bragging about my wife, a nice little retrospective AN, and we will all sail off into the New Year. Stay tuned!


	31. Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara never would be to put into words how much it meant to her when Zuko quit smoking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A final little entry in the Cop/Doctor AU, previously seen in "Secret Lovers," "Wedding," "Forbidden," "Complementary," "Pregnancy," "Strangers," and "Escape."

**Ash**

 “HEY, BABE?”

            Katara looked up from the pan she was currently making their breakfast in, turning her bleary gaze ( _because she was three months’ pregnant now, it was one cup of half-strength tea a day for her for a while yet_ ) toward where Zuko was standing at the end of the counter, chopping vegetables to her specifications, _and looking damn fine doing it, if I don’t say so myself, what with his sleeves rolled up and everything._ “Yes, Zuko?”

            Zuko held up the ashtray that, for as long as they had been living together, he had kept resting in the kitchen, one of a half-dozen or so strategically placed ashtrays scattered all around their apartment. “Where are we tossing these?”

            That was when it hit Katara, and she almost laughed at her own forgetfulness. Because, see, the day they confirmed that she was pregnant, her husband had quit smoking. She hadn’t said a word, had never intended to, she understood why he smoked. He had grown up in the Fire Nation, where _everyone_ smoked, and he was a cop, a high-stress job if there ever was one, and she worked with enough smoking doctors and nurses to understand the need for a stress-reliever, and besides, if she was honest? Her pre-pregnant caffeine intake didn’t exactly leave her with a leg to stand on.

            _But we never had to discuss it. All I’ve ever said is that I’d like it if he cut back when he hit thirty, because I want him with me for a long, long time, but then we stepped out of the doctor’s office and he picked me up and swung me around and covered me with kisses, right before taking his current pack out of his pocket and tossing it in the trash._

And now, her husband was standing by the cutting board, holding up a clean ashtray, and asking her where she was stashing them.

            “Actually,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady and even, trying not to cry, _because I will get through one gods-damn day of pregnancy without crying, dammit,_ “why don’t you just toss that one?”

            Zuko shrugged, gave the ashtray a look. “Alright, though…what about my sister, or Toph? I doubt either of _them_ will ever quit.”

            “True…still, I’ve set aside two to keep around for them, so, you know, no reason to hold on to any more than that.”

            Zuko nodded. “Fair enough,” and, with that, he leaned past Katara and tossed the ashtray into the trash. On his way back to his post by the cutting board, she grabbed him, and kissed him like she was never going to see him again.

            “What was that for?” he asked, smiling from ear-to-ear, sounding a bit out-of-breath.

            “Because I love you,” she said, as she gave him a final peck and turned back to the stove. “Now, get back to work, it’s about time to toss in the sliced peppers.”

            Zuko chuckled as he returned to the cutting board. “Yes, ma’am.”

            It was one of the best tasting breakfasts Katara had ever made…even after she threw most of it up an hour into her shift at the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT I DID IT I PULLED IT OFF FUCK YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
> 
> *deep breath in, deep breath out*
> 
> Okay, but seriously, HOW AWESOME WAS THAT?!?!?! I'm pretty proud of myself. If you wish to read a longer, more detailed account of me patting myself on the back, feel free to go to FF.net, look up the author kangaroo2010, and scope that shit. Otherwise...
> 
> It's been a wild ride, and I've loved every minute of it. Now, it's time for us all to go back out into the world, enjoy this upcoming New Year's Eve, and as for me, I'll be with my wife, acting like every single asshole couple that you hate, as I smoke away my last pack of smokes before I quit.
> 
> Sometime in the next couple days, I'm going to throw up a little note that'll offer my advice on what order to read these pieces in, and who knows? Maybe something special, just for you guys.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy my last piece, enjoy your New Year, be safe, and [insert deity-or-non-deity of choice here] bless!
> 
> Oh, yeah, one more thing...every single one of us should give a huge amount of credit to the lovely and talented beanaroony, who ran Zutara Month this year. You can find their art over on DeviantArt, and you should totally scope it, because they do amazing work. If I had half the talent at drawing as they do, I’d...I dunno...make my own fanart instead of begging you guys for it.
> 
> That’s it. Peace!


	32. The Zutara Month 2015 Master List

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, if you're wondering where a story I reference is, hop over to FF.net and look up an author by the name of kangaroo2010. That's me, and you'll find all kinds of fun stuff there.

**Zutara Month 2015, Master List**

So, at the end of Zutara Month ( _which I can’t help but feel went off as a smashing success, at least for me_ ), I made a promise to post a big list of all the stories, sorted out and put into some kind of chronological order. I ended up getting hit with _End of Project Depression_ a lot harder than I had anticipated, so I _kind of forgot about it_ for a bit, but I’m feeling _much_ better today, so it’s time to give you guys what I promised.

To wit:

\- The Cop/Doctor AU

\- _Strangers_  
\- Secret Lovers  
\- Escape  
\- _Wedding_  
\- Ash  
\- Pregnancy  
\- Forbidden  
\- Complementary

\- The Spy AU

            - _Drunk_  
            - Lullaby  
            - Unravel

\- Ripples from an Oasis ( _A Different Path Prequel_ )

            - _Royalty_  
            - Caught  
            - In His/Her Shoes  
            - Whisper  
            - Survive

\- Stories that Can Be Read as Follow-Up to _A Different Path_

 _\- Patience_  
            - Honeymoon  
            - Parallel  
            - Red String

\- Stand-Alone Pieces

            - _Lost_  
            - Somebody to Die For (Outtake from “A Different Path”)  
            - Regret  
            - Sun and Moon (Follow-Up to “Wild, Wild Love”)  
            - Reincarnation  
            - Mythology (“Doctor Who” Crossover)  
            - End of the World  
            - Babysitting (Follow-Up to “Of Brothers and Sisters”)  
            - Illuminated (“Star Wars” Crossover)  
            - Partners in Crime  
            - History (Follow-Up to “Hold Back the River”)

Now, don’t take this to mean that I’m telling you how to read things; this is just a handy little guide for those of you who happen to share my obsessive-compulsive need to read things in some kind of order. What can I say? We all have our problems.

Tune in sometime in the near future, when I plan on giving you a fun little Zutara Month Bonus!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guess what! It's Zutara Month 2015! Almost didn't find out about this! I'm glad I did; I needed something to get me out of my recent random bout of writer's block!
> 
> Anyways, if you're visiting through Tumblr, welcome! Please feel free to R&R on anything else you see here. If you want to scope my Tumblr or my FF account, look me up under kangaroo2010. You can also find me on Twitter at historybuff2013, where you will encounter a very cute picture of my wife and I looking adorable while painting a friend's house. But whatever; on with the show!
> 
> In tomorrow's episode, Katara is playing with a cord of red silk, and Korra would very much like to know what it is. Stay tuned!


End file.
